


The Stormhearted

by Rathashis



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 69,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2777756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rathashis/pseuds/Rathashis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all relationships start out smoothly. Not all mages are created equal.</p><p>Marie Trevelyan, Sin of House Trevelyan and Thunderborn of the Ostwick Circle of Magi, is a mage rebel against the Templars. Brought to the conclave as a templar deterrent by the Ostwick Magi, she finds herself the lone survivor with the storm inside her, threatening to break free. </p><p>Commander Cullen finds himself face to face with the thunder wielding mage in the Valley of Sacred Ashes, her predatory stride telling him that he was not the first templar she's faced, and like those before him, she would show him no mercy.</p><p>*Spoilers* This will be following the story, and although there are some points that will follow it closely, there are others where it will deviate. </p><p>***This is my first ever work as a fanfic, so please be patient! ^.^</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lion on the Battlefield

Marie Trevelyan clamped her teeth shut and hissed through the pain, climbing up through the mountain paths with the Seeker stalking behind her, following her, watching her as they made their way toward what was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. There was also the Elf Solas, who had demonstrated that she could, indeed, close the rifts that now speckled across all of southern Thedas, and the famous dwarf from Kirkwall, the one and only Varric Tethras.

The snow crunched under her boots as she continued to climb, the breach in the sky pulsing and sending new bolts of pain up from her hand and straight through to her shoulder, but Marie could ignore the pain. She had to ignore the pain. If she was the only one who could make this tragedy right, then nothing would stop her from reaching the rift.

When Roderick and the others couldn’t make their decision, they had surprisingly turned to her to make a choice; to take the paths for an indirect, quicker yet more dangerous way to get to the temple, or to charge forward with the soldiers in the Valley.

Marie took the first route as the Seeker and Sister Leliana being cautious, trying to keep their prisoner safe, but that didn’t sit right with Marie.

“We will go to the front.” She declared, knowing that with her spells, her pilfered staff, she could help fight through and cut the losses on the front lines, to save what soldiers she could.

“You don’t really talk much, do you?” Varric said as she looked down at the dwarf, cocking Bianca to follow her down onto the field. No questions as to why, but blind faith, something she wasn’t accustomed to.

Her life didn’t mean particularly much in comparison, she thought, but that wouldn’t stop her from getting to that Temple.

“Words are well and good, but they waste action when action is desperately needed.” Marie said as she gripped her staff and marched toward the stairs.

Marie began to weave her magic, summoning forth her inner storm, the humming electrical charge surrounding her and causing the hairs all over her body to prickle and stand. Climbing down the stairs to the blood soaked battlefield, white and red and speckled with bodies and green fade shards, she tuned out the screaming and noise to take in her surroundings, to pick her demonic targets with calculated precision.

With the spin of her staff, she fired off a quick succession of icy bolts, garnering the attention of the sloth demon that had hovered over one of the injured soldiers. It also pulled in a few of the others at the notice of a mage now present on the battlefield; just as she had planned.

Summoning that electrical charge she had wrapped around her body, spinning her staff and slamming it into the ground, arcs of potent electricity arced out to the now semi-clustered demons and ricocheted between them. While they twitched and spasmed, a wave of her hand threw a frightening orb of flame to explode against the demons.

Marie smiled slyly as the Seeker charged in and struck down the first severely weakened demon, a few bolts from Bianca finishing the second, while a shock of icy power shattered the third. The thrill of using her magic pulsed in waves through her body and arced brightly between her fingers as she continued her measured barrage on the next set of demons, green wisps firing green bolts that made her skin feel like it was sheathed in acid.

That pain didn’t matter, she accepted it, converted it into the currents of power swirling inside her, and fired it right back with flashing white bolts of electricity. Bringing her hand up to yet another of the rifts that had littered the battlefield, Marie concentrated on closing the lime green fissure through willpower and the mark on her hand, slamming it shut with a loud crack.

Marie was methodical in her forward march, making sure not to stop too long in her advance, and when she finally reached the end of the field, her smile disappeared as her skin prickled in warning instead of the high voltage of her lingering magic.

Templar, and not some push over knight-recruit. Having been around them her entire life there was no way she could miss that fear inducing anti-magic aura. Armored as a proud and defiant lion his helm resembled the great hunting cat, sword and shield braced in a stance she knew all too well, and he deftly cut through his demon with the precision of a high ranking Knight. 

Survival instinct forced her to slow, allowing the Pentaghast and the others to pass her, putting bodies between her and that Templar. Marie reinforced the magical barriers she had in place, cloaking herself in a skin tight sheath of electricity, weaving it into her barriers. The storm inside her writhed is response to her readiness, her thunderous gift ready to be unleashed.

As if sensing her, the Templar turned, sword ready, shield prepared. Marie was positive that he could target her power as she could feel his, and she hated that she hoped that the Templar would target Solas first. The elf didn’t deserve it, but-

“Commander!” The Seeker called out, the Templar turning to Pentaghast and sheathing his sword a moment later.

“Lady Cassandra, You’ve managed to close the rift.” The Templar’s voice had the tone of a commander, demanding her attention even further as he pointed towards where the temple had once stood. “Well done.”

“Do not congratulate me, Commander. This is the prisoners doing.”

With a gloved hand, he reached up and pulled the helm from his head, sharp brown eyes watching her with extreme caution. Marie had been wrong in her hope that he would target Solas first, her unnaturally strong affinity to electricity must have rippled right through him as it did every Templar she had ever encountered. His hair was golden and combed back, a bit of a mess from his helm, a scar climbing from his lip and onto his cheek. Handsome, frighteningly so considering his occupation, Marie tightened her grip on her magic to keep the arcs from firing out towards the metal of his armor.

She didn’t want to tempt him to strike if it wasn’t necessary.

“Is it? I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of good people getting you here.”

“You’re not the only one hoping that.” Marie replied curtly.

“We’ll see soon enough, won’t we?” He said, just as short with his answer as she was as he motioned towards the temple, turning back towards the Seeker. “The way should be clear, Leliana will try to meet you there.”

“Then we’d best move quickly.” The Seeker said, turning to look at Marie. “Give us time, Commander.”

The Templar looked at me again, distrustful as he spoke. “Maker watch over you. For all our sakes.”

To Marie, it didn’t feel like he was sincere. Even as he passed, watching her still as he put the helm back on his head, she couldn’t help but shiver as he passed within inches of her. It was a miracle that her magic obeyed, fearing that a little lick of potent electricity touching that armor of his would have him turn on her in a heartbeat.

He was gone then, helping a wounded soldier retreat by taking the mans’ arm and draping it over his shoulders, moving him along more quickly as he went.

Marie hadn’t realized that she had been holding her breath, or that her fingers were clamped so hard on her staff that her hand felt numb. Her heart had been pounding wildly with the fear that he would turn on her, taking that Chantry ordained sword and smiting her with it.

And despite the confidence in her powers, her mastery of her craft and her unusually unique affinity, she feared that she could not win against such a man.

________________________________________________  
Cullen was no stranger to magic. In his time at the Ferelden Circle, Kirkwall, and the entire Mage rebellion, he thought he had seen it all. He had watched his former Knight-Commander go mad and turn into pure lyrium. But the rolling power that had thrummed across the field, the taste of ozone that filled the air after several claps of thunder, didn’t feel like any magic he had encountered.

Like a storm front she moved onto the field, steady and unyielding, crackling electricity arcing and branching, bouncing between her targets with the spin of her staff. He felt the power shiver through the earth and pound through his blood, every instinct in his body screaming at him that something dangerous was approaching. Something he couldn’t avoid even if he tried. 

As she moved closer, with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas in tow, he saw the intense hunter green eyes of the Mage that sent his Templar instincts on edge the moment her power licked the battlefield. With fair skin like alabaster, and dark chocolate hair tightly woven on her head, Cullen found himself watching her as she registered his own presence as he had hers. 

Her gait changed. She allowed the others to pass her, putting bodies between them, giving her the tactical advantage. He watched her as all that power she was using offensively turned inward, wrapping it around her like a shield, humming loudly in his ears as his body reacted instinctively to her change in posture. This was a Mage who was too familiar with Templars, her body language cautious and ready to fight, to win.

It was Cassandra that had broken his concentration on her, the Mage making no further movements as her defenses were now set. It was his move, and she let him know it by her stance, her posture demanding that she acknowledge her.

Even though Solas was considerably closer, it surprised him the he hadn’t registered the elven apostate first. But then, Solas didn’t have that commanding magical presence.  
When he brushed past her, daring to get close enough to hear the electrical hum up close, those intense hunter eyes followed him, locking briefly with his. Daunting strength looked back at him, a fortress of iron will that would not back down. Despite her curt answer before, there was a conviction in that stare he couldn’t deny. Just as surely as she would stand defiantly against him on that field of battle, she would crawl to the breach on bloody hands if she had to and, maker preserve her, she would close it.

It was of absolutely no surprise that word of her success reached the encampment. 

____________________________________________  
Marie woke with a start, surrounded by the trappings of an unfamiliar room. After the hard battle with the Pride demon, which to her dismay had immunities to her lightning, gasping through the pain of closing the breach, Marie had lost conciousness.

The elf that was in her room, dropping her things with a start, stammered on about how she should tell Cassandra right away that the Herald of Andraste was awake and not dally around. The poor thing was awe struck, bowing hurriedly, confusing Marie until she left.

Which left Marie to take a moment to control the magic that threatened to arc out at her surprise, pulling it inward to dissipate within herself.  
It was harder to do than she had originally thought, now that she had a moment alone to think about the events at the conclave. She couldn’t remember much, but she remembered those who had not come out, those of her former circle, her friends and fellow mages. Men and women who she had fought for, using her gift to better the cause for all mage kind.

Her life meant little compared to all those lost, why was she allowed to walk out alive?

The Sin of House Trevelyan, Thunderborn of Ostwick. If she could have saved one other life, taken their place on the list of the dead, she wouldn’t have hesitated. No life at that temple was worth less than hers.

But mourning, true mourning, would have to wait. The Breach was closed, for now, a minor victory in the face of a grand tragedy, and there was still the identity of the perpetrator so discover. 

Marie would dedicate herself to finding that monster. She would find him, and rend the vengeance of every soul lost at the Conclave from their pitiful flesh. They, in her eyes, were worth less than her.

She gathered herself up from the bed, finding her clothes and putting them on carefully, slowly, meditating through the motions to help control the storm inside. If Marie wasn’t careful, all that magic inside of her could leak out, and being surrounded by metal wielding troops, someone was bound to end up electrocuted and dead.  
Once she stepped out into the glaring daylight, the sun glittering off of the snow, she realized that she had been brought back to Haven. Looking around, she could hear the drilling of soldiers just outside the town proper, the Chantry standing beyond the few rows of houses that she could see.  
That’s where she would find Cassandra, Marie thought, walking through the town and finding the stares glaringly uncomfortable. Girding herself, strapping some steel to her spine, she made a hasty march up to the Chantry, slithering through the doors and out of sight of the people watching her.

Thankfully she was right, and Cassandra was there, waiting for her.


	2. Rumors of The Rebel of Ostwick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen learns the name of the Herald of Andraste, and her strange title given to her by the Ostwick Circle. Despite her common sense, Marie can't help but feel intrigued.

Cullen had been bickering back and forth with Leliana and Josephine, now that Cassandra had openly declared the Inquisition without the backing of the Chantry. Or a leader, for that matter.

The primary concern was of course the person who had closed the Breach at the Temple of Sacred ashes, one Lady Marie Trevelyan, a Mage from the Circle of Ostwick. Many believed that she was the Herald of Andraste, sent by the Bride of the Maker from the Fade. Cullen could tell immediately that she was actively part of the Mage Rebellion; her readiness to face a Templar on the field of battle proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. He also didn’t doubt that many a Templar had fallen before her, as helpless as babes before the unbridled power of a storm. 

He heard Cassandra speaking just outside the doors before they opened, but he felt the thrum of magic and knew who it was that she was speaking to before they made their entrance. 

Striding with impeccable grace, her face an alabaster mask, her dark chocolate hair coifed expertly on her head, Lady Trevelyan made her first entrance into their war room. At first her eyes scanned the table, intense and deliberate, Cassandra making introductions. Cullen watched as those hunter eyes quickly inspected Leliana, made the smallest of curtsies to Josephine, and then lock on him.

“And this is Commander Cullen, in charge of our standing army here in Haven.” The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, his hand balancing on the pommel of the sword at his hip as he was once again the target for those strange and focused eyes. Her magic was palpable, tingling, achingly familiar to the lyrium he no longer dosed himself with.  
His breath caught in his throat as he nodded his head to her, unable to look away, still fighting the instinct that she was dangerous and that he should be wary of her. Something about her, despite her being poised and collected, seemed feral and untamed, on the cusp of flying wildly out of control.

Then she smiled.

Cullen’s heart rattled around in his chest as she broke her intense stare, looking to the others again.

“That’s a lot of impressive titles.” She said with a slight chuckle.

He had to fight not to smile, trying to keep his outward scowl as their discussion turned to the task at hand; the Inquisition, and what to do now that they were all declared heretic by the Chantry. They made the decision that the Herald of Andraste go out into the Hinterlands to gather resources, information, and allies, and she surprisingly agreed to do as they asked.

After Lady Trevelyan left with Cassandra, preparing to travel to the Hinterlands, Leliana stopped him with a hand.

“Commander, may I have a word?” She asked.

“Of course.” He replied. They waited for the doors to close, privacy for whatever it was she needed to tell him, but he didn’t like what he saw in her eyes as she removed a folded report from one of her innumerable pockets.

“If you weren’t already aware, Lady Trevelyan has had problems with Templars in the past.” Leliana said, holding out the report to him. It was a war document, a dossier like he had seen in his days in Kirkwall, usually of declared maleficarum. 

“I had a feeling that I was not the first Templar she’s faced. She’s absolutely fearless.” Cullen replied, opening it to see Lady Marie Trevelyan of the Ostwick Circle of Magi. What he didn’t expect to see a codename; Thunderborn. “What’s this?”

“From what I can gather, Thunderborn is a title given to her by the former Ostwick circle.” Leliana replied. “Chantry documents of those who were to be at the conclave listed her as an advisor, but nothing else. One can only assume she was there as a deterrent, because the list below…” Her words trailed off as she motioned to the second page of the dossier listed names. A lot of Templar names, all listed as fallen in service to the Chantry.

Cullen remembered the change in her gait, the way she allowed others to stand between them, the shift of power as Lady Trevelyan took charge of the battlefield as he had responded to her presence as a Templar would a hostile Mage. All of the Templars on that list faced that unyielding force, their instincts screaming of the danger like his had done, knowing there was no way to outrun it. 

And they all fell before her.

“This isn’t just problems with Templar, Sister Leliana. This is all-out war with the Order.”

“Which is why I have brought this to your attention, Commander.” Leliana replied. “I will try to find out more about this Thunderborn title, but even as a former Templar she might see you as a threat.”

“I fear she already does.” He said, folding up the report again and tucking it away to read through later. “In the meantime keep a watch on her, and make sure that those Templars that have joined the Inquisition are kept busy. I fear I can imagine the mess she would make of one of them.”

\---------------------------------------  
Marie was sure that Redcliff’s horsemaster would be a welcome acquisition to the cause, as well as many others that wanted to willingly join the Inquisition now that the crossroads had been freed and she had met with Mother Giselle. She had spent the last two weeks trouncing through the region with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas, aiding as many as she could. There was a healer at the crossroads, plenty of food, blankets and supplies for the refugees, many of the regional rifts closed, and word from the Mages that they wanted to talk to the Herald of Andraste. To her, that was a good sign; she knew some of the Mages among the Redcliff rebels, and they would make excellent allies in the battles to come.

To use her magic for something good, to help, to build the stepping stones towards a vengeance that would be long in the coming, it was more than worth it to her. Marie was beyond patient. Her time would come. All she had to do was keep the storm inside, and unleash it upon the fool who destroyed so much at the Conclave.  
Riding in on her armored charger, practically parading in with requisitions and supplies for Haven, Marie was glad to know that soon she would have a moment to herself, to calm and settle, and speak with her advisors about what their next move should be.

Her Advisors. The first image in her head was the Templar, Commander Cullen. And as if the very thought of him summoned him, as she rode over the bridge into Haven, she spotted the man standing among the training recruits. Even far away, she could picture the scar on his lip and the furrow of his brow, the sharpness of his eyes as he watched her carefully. All of the Templars watched her like that, they couldn’t help but respond to what was inside, what they didn’t understand was bottled within her breast.  
But the Commander puzzled her. Marie had been thinking it over for the past two weeks, at night when the others were asleep, his reaction compared to that of the others. He was a Templar, the strongest she’d stared down on a battlefield, with enough of an aura to make her doubt her ability to survive an encounter with him. She had set her trap, pulling all of that raw energy into her barriers, pieces moving into place to her advantage… all he had to do was land a blow. His sword would have cut through her barrier, into her flesh, but the storm of electrical currents woven into those barriers would have carried through his sword and charged his body with thousands of volts…

Yet he hadn’t taken the bait.

Almost all of the Templars she had faced in the past couldn’t even cut through the barrier before the storm within killed them, unable to resist her presence when sheathed in the storm’s power. She had always given them the benefit of a good fight first, to honor their sacrifice instead of spitting on their futility, but not Commander Cullen. He had resisted masterfully.

Marie dismounted and watched him, gauging his Templar swagger and the way he balanced a hand on the pommel of his sword. Dangerous, handsome, fierce, and fearless. His voice carried the weight of his command effortlessly, even as gruff and harsh as it thrummed through the chill afternoon air. 

“Making eyes are Curly?” Varric asked as he walked up to stand beside her, but Marie only blinked at him. The famous dwarf was always welcome company, his banter usually a much needed distraction to those inward spiraling thoughts, keeping her away from the storm inside. 

“Curly?” She asked, puzzled.

“Commander Cullen, of course.” Her moment of panic manifested as a loud snap of static electricity, arcing to one of the metal bits hanging on the fence and setting off the horses, causing a scene she didn’t intend. With stablehands scrambling around, recruits running to their aid, Varric could only laugh at her.

“The Herald of Andraste turns into a glorified lightning rod when she thinks dirty thoughts. What will people say?” Varric chuckled, Marie trying to smile through her embarrassment, only managing to lock her arms protectively across her chest.

“I’m not thinking dirty thoughts.” She said defensively.

“Uh-huh. Tell that to the horses. I’ll meet you inside when you’re done making googly eyes at Curly.”

She wanted to swat at him as he walked away, but her skin was already charged and she needed to ground it before doing anything. Already some of the few Templars on the training grounds were eyeing her, sensing the power build-up that triggered their training.

She sighed in distress as she caught the glare of Commander Cullen, trying to keep her mind calm to reabsorb the energy instead of trying to disperse it. Calm down, she told herself, starting her careful, meditative walk to quiet her mind. 

Judging by the number of Templar eyes on her, the safest place she could be right now was next to the one Templar that resisted her, she thought. Marie started in his direction, making a wide path to where he was constantly taking messengers and reports while barking orders at the sparring recruits. The storm was bottled up inside safely again by the time she could see the details of his armor.

As she approached, he looked over his shoulder and handed off what reports were in his hands to a messenger, the man walking off to continue his deliveries.

“We’ve received a good number of new recruits, locals from Haven and some pilgrims.” Commander Cullen started, all business as he crossed his arms over his chest. She was then rewarded with a sideways smile. “None made quite the entrance you did.”

“At least I’ve made a good first impression.” Marie replied, returning his smile with a small one of her own.

“That you did.” He replied. “I was recruited into the Inquisition in Kirkwall myself, I was there during the mage uprising. I saw first-hand the devastation it caused.”

Marie’s stomach tied up into knots; Maker, he’s seen the worst of it. She clenched her hands anxiously, hoping he wouldn’t notice that she was actively maintaining careful control of herself. She was in Ostwick when things went wrong, when the Templars turned on their charges, a Rite of Annulment called to cleanse the Circle. That was when she changed, to protect her friends, her mentors, her family… and had let the storm within her rage. Many Templar she had known for most of her life died by her hands that day.

“Cassandra offered a solution, and so I left the Templars to join her cause.”

That piqued Marie’s interest, despite the knot in her stomach.

“Left the Templars?” She asked, more curious now about the Commander. 

“Yes, left. I no longer hold a position within the Order.” He replied. “The Chantry lost control of both the mages and the Templars, now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition can act where the Chantry cannot. Our followers could be part of that, there is so much we can-“ the Commanders impassioned words came to a halt as he realized Marie was listening rather intently, looking away from her as he composed himself. “Forgive me, I doubt you came over here for a lecture.”

Marie could only smile at him as she realized how passionate he was about the Inquisition, about the cause he decided to champion over service to the Chantry. She wanted to know more about him, learn what made him so intriguing, as she had noticed that something in his words spoke to the part of her that had made her rebel in the first place.

“No, but if you have one prepared, I would love to hear it.”

Commander Cullen laughed, a warm and rich sound that made her heart flutter about in her chest. 

“Another time, perhaps.” He said with a wide grin. “I… uh… hm…” He cleared his throat and looked away, suddenly awkward. “There’s still a lot of work ahead…”

“Commander.” A messenger arrived with a report in hand, and Marie couldn’t help but smile as she watched him decide on a strategic retreat.

“As I was saying.”

There was more swagger in his step as he walked away with the messenger, Marie still watching him carefully as she decided to make her own retreat. 

In her mind she berated herself for blatantly flirting with a Templar, having had it beat into her head that Mages and Templars could not fraternize, but she found herself biting her lip as she recalled their brief conversation in detail, etching the sound of that laugh into her memory as she had done many a spell.

Former Templar, she reminded herself as she walked towards her sleeping quarters for some well needed solitude. The Commander was no longer a part of the Order.

That did not change what he was, a dread voice whispered in the back of her head. It was like declaring herself not a mage because she was no longer a part of the Circle. It made little difference. The sword would fall upon her neck if duty called for it, and Maker preserve them, she would take him with her to the pyre.

That still didn’t stop her from wanting to hear that laugh again.


	3. The Caged Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie makes a decision against the Templars, choosing the Mages despite Cullen's arguments.   
> Cullen discovers that something is amiss with Lady Trevelyan's magic, and is intent on knowing why it calls out to him like a siren's song.

Sister Leliana was doing her best at finding information on their Herald, and despite the Spymasters network, there was little forthcoming. The one piece of evidence that still existed within the Chantry records was that a Rite of Annulment was called just before the Circle was blasted clean. Parts of it still stood, but the reports described it as being barely more than a husk of its former self.

The fact that Marie had survived spoke of her will to live. Cullen could understand why she had sided with her own kind when the Templars turned inward to cleanse the Circle. 

What surprised him was the number of mages that did survive the Annulment, it was as if instead of the mages, the Templars were the ones to be culled.

Again he relived the moment he had first set eyes on her, that deadly stride, the pulse of power that sang through his blood, the undiluted intensity of those hunter green eyes. If there were other mages at that Circle like her, he could see why the tides turned in their favor.

She was dangerous, undoubtedly, but he couldn’t help but notice that when she was around, she somehow managed to get his attention and keep it. Not only that, he found her eyes on him more often than he would care to admit.

Then there was the flirting, the timid smiles and his occasional stammering, at a loss for words when she would start to ask questions and it would turn awkward. Asking about his vows, and whether or not Templars vowed against physical temptations, or if he had taken such a vow…

Cullen hadn’t found himself in such a desperate need for a subject change in a long, long time.

And to think that he might have even spied the faint touch of a blush on her cheeks when he had answered that he himself had taken no such vow… it made his heart hammer nervously in his chest as he felt the need to cover the red climbing up his neck. 

Despite all that, he still found himself watching her. Her graceful, measured stride, deliberate and without a hint of urgency to be anywhere but in that moment, the way she folded her hands together neatly to hover over her belly. It reminded him of the Chantry sisters at their masses, the way they would walk through their flock as they sang the Chant of Light. 

Lady Trevelyan had called a late meeting at the war table that night, both hands placed firmly on either side of Redcliff on the map, staring down the marker as her advisors made their entry. Cullen noted the intensity in her eyes, her posture rigid, lacking in the grace she usually exuded. Even her hair, usually so immaculate and woven against her head, was in a state of disarray, framing her face in loose waves.

“I have come to a decision.” She declared before any of them could even speak. 

There had been some heated arguments of late as to whether or not to try and recruit the remaining Templars or the Mages holed up in Redcliff. He was vehemently for the Templars, despite not being one of the Order anymore. He respected those who had remained, and felt they would be a better addition to the cause than the rebels.  
But Marie, Maker help them, was one of those rebels, and could argue just as staunchly for their cause as he could for the Templars.

“The mages can supply the necessary power needed to close the Breach for good.” Marie said, receiving and approving nod from Leliana and Josephine, but her eyes fell on him, gripping the pommel of his sword as stare again challenged him to argue.

“Templars can just as easily suppress the Breach enough to make the attempt.” Cullen responded harshly, her brow furrowing again as he couldn’t find it in him to agree.

“That’s pure speculation.” Leliana interjected.

“No, I was once a Templar, I know what they are capable of. Herald, I must vote in favor of recruiting the remaining Templars.” 

“As a mage, I know exactly what they are capable of.” Marie snarled. She was unusually aggressive, defensive, the flavor of her magic bitter as it leaked out from her. “I am not holding a vote, Commander. I am choosing to recruit the mages. They have been victimized in this war, and they need our aid just as much as we need theirs.”

“Here we go again…” Josephine said, nose now buried into her note board.

“Victimized?” He scoffed. Cullen was about to launch into his argument, again, when someone else cut him off.

“If you’ve gone ahead and decided, you’re going to need my help.” Cullen had been so engrossed with his argument with the Herald, that he hadn’t noticed the other mage saunter in. A Tevinter.

“Thank you for coming, Dorian.” Marie said, her voice softer as she spoke to him, accepting him terrifyingly easily. “What Commander Cullen doesn’t understand, is that a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium has set himself up inside of Redcliff, having convinced the remaining rebels to join him. He’s even ousted Arl Teagan, King Alistair’s uncle. It is in our best interests, all around, to stop his plan and gather the rebels under our banner.”

“And did this Magister tell you all of this?” Cullen pointed at Dorian, fearing that she was being misled, directed down the wrong path…

“Grand Enchanter Fiona did.” Marie replied.

“Alexius has extended such a carefully worded invitation that I’m sure he wants to kill your herald.” Dorian said. “Not only that, when you tried to speak with Fiona, she didn’t even remember talking to you in the first place.”

“A foreign power gaining a foothold in Ferelden does not bode well.” Cassandra added, her opinion now swayed. Cullen felt alone on his side of the table, everyone watching between him and Trevelyan as matters for the mages continued to spiral out of control.

He couldn’t argue if things had grown so dire for the mages, and felt as though he was being cornered into abandoning those who remained faithful within the order.

“To work, then.” He said, the words coming out harshly as he strode out of the war room, not waiting for a dismissal. Cullen marched through the chantry and out into the cold night air, heading straight down to the practice field where he could take all of the anger and frustration inside of him and beat it into a straw target.

\---------------------------------------------  
“You’re doing the right thing.” Leliana said quietly, placing a hand on Marie’s shoulder and making her physically flinch. She could see just out of the corner of her eye that Cassandra was shaking her head at Leliana, letting her know that the Herald did not want to be touched.

“I know I am.” Marie responded, still gripping the table hard, her head pounding. “It makes it no less difficult when I’m deciding which side of their conflict gets our aid and which gets left stranded.” Marie was physically shaking, trying to keep a firm hold on the precarious edge of control as she felt her hair begin to stand. The past few nights that they had been arguing over what to do, she had slipped a few more inches away from the precarious grip of control she had over herself. The storm was slipping fingers of energy through the cracks.

Cullen wasn’t wrong. Maker preserve her, he wasn’t. In the end, it was her own prejudice, siding with her kind that had won. The Templars were not the jailed, they were the jailors. They didn’t have to fear apostasy or blood magic, the accusations or the Rite of Tranquility. They didn’t have to act like good Chantry petitioners, begging to be forgiven for a sin that was merely an accident of birth.

But they served, and in serving they had followed the orders of their superiors, who were not good, who were not the defenders of the just as the Chant of Light proclaimed. There were mages who deserved the deaths granted them by their ordained blades, who did revel in their apostasy, who targeted the defenseless in the name of mages everywhere. Like the ones who had been fighting the Templars so viciously at the crossroads.

They were monsters. Just like her.

“I need air.” She said, fleeing from the war room now that enough time had passed to allow Cullen his space. Marie didn’t want to be anywhere near him, where the ever present danger of the storm inside rose so quickly to test the walls of her will. 

“Let me accompany you. We can get to know each other better before I head back to Redcliff.” Dorian said, his silky voice and the tap of his staff following behind her. “It isn’t everyday you get to meet someone who physically walked the Fade.”

“For your safety, I would stay away from me.” Marie said sharply as little arcs of light webbed between her fingers. Dorian didn’t flinch, actually coming closer as she tightly gripped her hands to her chest.

“Andraste’s flaming knickers, what’s wrong with your magic?”

Shit. 

Marie had set a mad pace for somewhere other than Haven, passing through the front gates and making a bee line for the frozen lake, hoping to at least make the other side of the bridge. There was a clearing there she had used before, when letting some of the magic out served her better than keeping it tightly bound within. She could feel the ripples of energy flow over her skin, arcing now between the buttons of her enchanters coat.

“Stay back!” She snapped at Dorian, the Tevinter finally letting some distance stretch between them as he must have realized what was happening. He asked what was wrong with her magic; the fool had no idea.

The Ostwick Magi had called her Thunderborn. In her chest beat a heart of wild, feral magic, a force best kept under lock and key. The enchanters had her train diligently, a Templar always hovering nearby, hoping to save the girl by trying to harness her ‘gift.’ But every now and then, when the weight of a world gone wrong pressed hard on her inner walls, on the fragile broken pieces of her Self, it would wrestle free.

And like a force of nature, Marie couldn’t stop it.

After sliding and skidding across the ice Marie reached the clearing, crouching down in the center and curling up into a tight ball, she loosened her control of the storm just a little, just enough to let some of that sparking energy out. Thunder rolled through the air like an impending storm as she closed her eyes and let the lights flash and snap, smelling the ozone fill the air around her. 

“Herald.” She heard, a good distance away by the sound of it, and she looked up to see Solas standing just outside of the perimeter of her clearing, Dorian crouched down beside him.

If they insisted on putting themselves in danger, she couldn’t stop them she thought, tucking her face against her knees once again and trying to shut out the thunderclaps, covering her ears and hiding as she did when she was a girl. And just as she had when she was a little girl, she could smell the ghost of burning flesh.

\--------------------------------------------  
That rolling power was unmistakeable, he would be able to pick it out anywhere, but when she came charging out of the front gates of Haven, Dorian close on her heels, he couldn’t help but hear what the Tevinter yelled as she sparked and lit up.

“Andraste’s flaming knicker’s, what’s wrong with your magic?”

Cullen could see her even outside the torchlight where he had been beating his target senseless, watching her light up in flashes as she skidded out across the ice.

Trevelyan was probably just as angry as he was and was going to fire off some lightning bolts at something, he snarled as he slammed his dummy again, but what the Tevinter said startled him. Even more so when Solas came slinking out with Varric, waving for the dwarf to go back inside while he strode off after the Herald and Dorian.

He paused in his hacking, watching the two figures move further and further away, only seeing them by the flickering flashes of light from Lady Trevelyan.

Cullen had seen magic going out of control before, but of spells that were already cast and active. He had never seen a mage have to fight with themselves to contain what they carried in their blood.

Bright flashes erupted from the grove on the other side of the river, thunder rolling through the area, booming like a storm churned heavy overhead. Except the sky was clear, the stars bright and twinkling, and there was not a sign of rain to be found. 

A few of the Templar recruits that were camped along the grounds had peered out of their tents, sensing the same magic that kicked his instincts awake. Not just a few, Cullen realized… all the Templars nearby reacted. Solas had reacted even though he wasn’t anywhere near the war table. The Tevinter had been visibly startled.

Something about Lady Trevelyan’s magic sang through his blood, through Solas and the Tevinter, through the other Templars in Haven. Pulled at him; them, lured them, made them feel like there was no escaping it and there was nothing to do but face it.

Her magic was a siren’s song, he realized. It brought to mind a young elf-blooded boy he remembered from Kirkwall, Faynriel, one with the dangerous ability to manipulate the Fade and had escaped the Circle through the dalish clan camped by Sundermount. Perhaps Thunderborn wasn’t a title, but a name given to what she was as a Mage.

He would tell Leliana to modify her search.

For now, he continued to pummel the dummy, the thunder rolling ominously as more lights flashed into the night.


	4. Be Still My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Dorian experience the power Marie Trevelyan hides within her breast, and the ramifications of what might happen should that secret get out. Cullen can't seem to let sleeping dragons lie, and urges Leliana to find more information about the Rebel of Ostwick.
> 
> **WARNING: Graphic depictions of death start now**

Dorian and Solas had not abandoned her, shivering from more than just the cold as the thunder eventually dissipated into the night. Marie had no semblance of time as she could still smell the burning flesh, could still hear the echoes of the storm ringing in her ears, of the sounds she had once heard to the clap of lightning strikes. She was still stuck in that moment from long ago when she felt gentle hands take her wrists and let the noises of the real world in, her eyes snapping open in alarm as she locked eyes with the Tevinter, Dorian. 

“You’re alright now.” He said, and she began to shake violently as she fought back the tears. 

“Please, please say nothing of this.” She begged, the shame fresh again, the embarrassment of breaking down and having a captive audience of perfect strangers. “If they find out I can’t… If they see…” 

“Solas did an excellent job keeping the curious away.” Dorian said as he removed the cloak he was wearing and draped it around her shoulders. “And I won’t tell anyone.”

“Neither will I.” Solas added, striding through the soot speckled snow, his staff and feet cutting lines of white. There were burn spots and splinters everywhere, a few unfortunate pines having been struck by the feral magic. “Dorian, do you believe there is a chance that this Alexius knows what the Herald is?”

“You know? Maker, please, please don’t breathe a word of this!” Marie sputtered, starting to panic, her nerves already raw.

“No one is going to say anything, I promise.” Dorian said, still holding her wrists and using his grip on her to slowly help her to her feet. “Alexius couldn’t know about this, otherwise he would have carved her heart out the moment she stepped into Redcliff village. I can’t say that I’m not intrigued.”

Marie allowed Dorian to wrap her in his cloak, trying desperately to piece back together her inner walls around the sleeping storm within. She had to repeat to herself; this isn’t the first time, I can control it, the storm is mine and mine to command, it doesn’t command me. She had to believe that to remember all of her training, the mantras and the verses of the Chant they had taught her in the Circle to save the child from the ever present Templar blades. 

“There was no word, For heaven or for earth, for sea or sky. All that existed was silence…” Marie chanted softly, her favorite and most personal part of the Chant. It was not that she was particularly religious, she was passably Andrastian, but the Threnodies verses spoke to her in a way none of the others had, helping her gather the shattered pieces of Self, using it to lock in the storm. “Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, The first Word, And His Word became all that might be: Dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities.”

“Am I to understand that none of your Advisors know?” Solas asked, and Marie took a steadying breath before shaking her head.

“They don’t need to.” She replied. “…and from it made his firstborn. And he said to them: In My image I forge you, To you I give dominion over all that exists. By your will may all things be done…”

“I’d imagine the Commander would be first in line to lop her head off.” Dorian said with a sarcastic grin, making Marie stumble through the next verse as her chest tightened. 

“Regardless of how I believe, I am inclined to agree.” Solas said as she finally, finally felt in control enough to walk on her own, to return to Haven without gathering more attention than she already had on her. “I must commend you on your mastery, Herald. As rare as it is, few born with a Fade-touched heart survive past their manifestation.”

“I am aware.” She replied quietly as she folded her hands, quieting the last bits of chaos in her mind. Marie looked to the lightening sky, her body aching and tired, but her mind sharp and silent once more, her fortress once again in place. Marie began the meditative walk back to Haven, the verses continuing to echo within her mind as the two mages followed behind her.

“Has anyone had the gall to tell you that you walk like a revered mother?” Dorian chuckled, but Marie didn’t have it in her at the moment to appreciate his humor. There were things to be done, and she had to follow through with her promise to save the mages, regardless of the price.

First, she needed to speak with Leliana. Her decision may have favored the mages, but she couldn’t just abandon the Templars. The Commander had made a valiant, loud, and fervent effort, and as much as he made her blood boil, she felt she owed him something for her blatant disregard of his advisement. 

\-------------------------------------  
Lady Trevelyan was herself again after raging through the woods outside of Haven. He hadn’t been able to rest with the peels of thunder or the crack of lightning strikes, and not many others had either. The few Templars that were part of the Inquisition hadn’t, many of them having come to him with their concern, a few of the higher ranking knights demanding they organize and investigate the chaotic magic rippling through the air.

Cullen had to insist that everything was under control, and that he was patrolling the training grounds and would call them to action if necessary. Only two of the Templars had been forceful with their demand, almost on the verge of panic as they were affected by the Herald’s magical outburst. Cullen had made note of their reactions and their names, and would pass that information on to the Spymaster.

He had made sure to wait until the Herald mounted her armored charger with Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian, her intense hunter eyes avoiding him as she spurred the stallion forward, before approaching Sister Leliana and Josephine.

“Sister Leliana.” He said as he garnered her attention.

“Commander.” She replied. 

“I believe that we have been searching for information in the wrong places.” He started, but before he could continue she held up a hand to stop him.

“Before you say anything further, the Herald asked me to relay a message to you once she was gone.”

That surprised him, but his first thought was that the Lady had to have the last word. He couldn’t stop his brow from furrowing menacingly as Leliana pursed her lips. Josephine gave the Spymaster a sly sideways grin as she began to scribble something down on her noteboard.

“Maker’s breath, what?” He said, exhasperated.

“Have the Commander open communications with those Templars at Therinfall Redoubt, and offer aid to those who are willing to come to the Inquisition.” Leliana said, as though she were reciting a carefully rehearsed report. “And I should quote, even though she asked me not to; ‘Contrary to what he may believe, I am not so heartless that I can’t attempt a compromise.’”

“Stubborn and infuriating, but not heartless. That… was not what I was expecting.” Cullen replied.

“It seems your arguments did not fall on deaf ears, Commander.” Josephine grinned.

“I’ll send word right away. Maker willing, extending the Herald’s promise of aid will win some of them over. Taking the side of the mages may have lost us most of them, but some are better than none.” Cullen balanced a hand on the pommel of his sword, catching the two of them grinning at him. “Why are you two grinning like the cat that ate the canary?”

“Oh, nothing Commander.” Leliana couldn’t have sounded more suspicious. “You had an idea of where I should look for information?”

“Yes.” He said. “I think we’ve been looking in the wrong direction. In my experiences, I’ve encountered a mage that had an ability that went above and beyond what the commonplace mage possessed. It was said that he could manipulate the Fade, and the Kirkwall Circle feared that he was more prone to possession than the others.”

“I think I see where you are going with this.” Leliana said, nodding. “You think that the Ostwick Circle called her Thunderborn because she might have an ability outside of the norm.”

“I can reach out to my contacts in Nevarra and Tevinter, see what they might know, but we haven’t the faintest idea as to what to ask about.” Josephine replied. “Maybe we could contact the Trevelyan’s. I hear they are devout Andrastians and might be willing to share what they know about their daughter. I’m sure that they would be happy to hear that she’s survived since the Ostwick Circle fell.”

“I think I will focus my efforts on finding any survivors from the Ostwick Circle, if anyone would know where to start, it would be someone who knew her there.” Leliana said.

“I expect a copy of any report regarding this matter without delay.” He said, turning and walking back toward the Chantry. In the meantime, Cullen had to deal with an unending march of reports that no doubt waited for him in his office. He also had to reach out to the remaining Templars and hope that the Herald’s compromise would be enough to win some of them over. 

Andraste preserve him, she infuriated him with her ability to argue a point as well as any noble, backed with the same passion for her kind as he had for his former Templar brothers and sisters. In those heated discussions, her stoic veneer of Chanter’s serenity cracked, and he wasn’t expecting the ferocity of a lioness to roar from beneath it. Not once did she falter, her intense hunter eyes never wavered even in the face of his staunch resistance, and Maker was she fearless.

As he picked up one of the reports that were stacked neatly on his desk, it dawned on him that, despite that fearlessness, she had used Leliana to tell him of her compromise. The Herald had even instructed her to wait until she was gone to tell him.

Feeling the blood rush to his face, he thought he might have an idea as to why Josephine and Leliana were grinning at him.

“Maker’s breath…”  
\----------------------------------------------------  
Marie had made sure to cloak herself in her barrier before entering Redcliff Castle, weaving threads of her electrical power through it to cover herself against an outright assassination attempt. If there was to be a dagger in her back, the one holding it would be dead before the surprise could register.

Things went as planned up until the moment her and Dorian’s trap was sprung, when Alexius had thrown an amulet in the air and ribbons of red jagged magic grabbed hold of her and pulled her through to somewhere that wasn’t the Redcliff throne room.

Marie’s feet hit water, the magic dropping her into a dark, red lit room, her boots slipping on the slick bottom and sending her tumbling in. The cold of it shocked her as she flailed to her feet, soaking wet, arcs of light bouncing between her body and the water.

There was another splash, the water churning as Dorian sputtered out of the water beside her.

“Maker, where are we?” She said as she wiped grimy water from her face, moving her hands through the water to find her staff. There were shards of red lyrium climbing parts of the walls, the only light available, but it only took her a moment to realize that they had been landed in a dungeon.

There wasn’t even time for an answer as two guards came scrambling down the waterlogged hall, the cell door flying open.

“How’d they get in here?” One of them said, panicked.

Marie, her instincts suddenly battle sharp, made the first move.

Her staff, cored with copper and tipped on either end with the conductive metal, was spun over her head and slammed down into the water, lightning spreading out like fanned fingers through and meeting the armor clad guards at their knees. They both went rigid, convulsing, sizzling and cooking inside their defensive shells, sliding quietly back down into the water as the smell of cooked human flesh filled the dungeon.

Marie turned to Dorian, and was shocked to realize that she had attacked without thinking, without taking into consideration someone else was in the water.

Thankfully the Tevinter was only shaken, his barrier taking the brunt of the blast she had sent into the water.

“You’re lucky I was prepared.” He said with an easy smile, eyeing the bodies floating in the water. “Do you ever get used to the smell?”

“Eventually.” Never.

He looked around himself now, taking in the dungeon and ponderingly crossed his arms, his fingers playing with his fancy moustache.

“Displacement, how fascinating. Probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us to… What? The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

“That wasn’t like any rift I’ve encountered.” She replied. 

He crouched down to one of the bodies, poking one with the end of his staff, greases leaking out of it as he pondered. It hadn’t escaped Marie’s notice the face he made as the body oozed hot yellow slime. 

“Let’s see… if we’re still in the castle it isn’t… oh, of course! It’s not where, but when!”

Marie blinked at the Tevinter a moment, chuckling at the absurdity of it.

“Really? We get thrown through a rift and the best you’ve got is time travel?” She used her staff to push the closest body away from the cell door, stepping around it to get out.

“Alexius must have used the amulet as a focus, it moved us through time! Look around you, did you notice any red lyrium inside the castle when we were there?”

“If that were the case Dorian, would it be forward in time or back? How far? Why aren’t we still in the hall, but down here in the dungeon instead?”

“Those are excellent questions!” He said too cheerfully. “We’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

Marie sighed. She couldn’t argue with the possibility, magic could be an unpredictable force at the best of times. She was living proof of its unpredictability. If the Magister had really attempted to displace them somewhere else in time, the only thing they could do now was investigate.

“Let’s look around, at least see where the rift took us.” Dorian said, moving past her and out into the hallway, peering into the cells as he headed for the open door at the other end. “Then we can figure out how to get back… if we can.”

“Thank you Dorian, I don’t think you could’ve sounded more sure of yourself in that moment.” Marie said sarcastically, following him down the hall.

“I do try my best.” He quipped.


	5. The Elder One's Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *SPOILERS*  
> Marie and Dorian discover the future that the Elder One will cause if he isn't stopped. Dorian witnesses what Marie fears within herself and becomes her confidante, and helps her hide her weakness from the others.
> 
> *WARNING* I find it hard not to be descriptive when it comes to violence, blood and gore.

They had found Grand Enchanter Fiona, or what was left of Fiona.

To her horror, the red lyrium was actually growing out of her, the flesh of her legs stretched beyond what even she considered grotesque, and Marie’s powers tended to cook people. Many of the lyrium spikes growing out of her lower half poked through her robes like someone had used a dull knife to try to poke holes through it, very slowly. Her voice was distorted, almost as if the sounds were struggling through the vapors of the lyrium to reach their ears. That was where Dorian confirmed that they had been displaced through time, by a year forward, and from what she was seeing, there could be no doubt in her heart that she had to stop it. 

“Come, we should find the others if they are still here.” Marie said, needing to walk away from Fiona, fearing the taste of bile in her throat as her stomach churned.

“Your Spymaster… she is here… find her.” Fiona groaned from her cell, sending foreboding shivers up her spine, shaking the foundations of her inner fortress.

“I will fix this.” Marie said to herself, strapping some steel to her spine as she climbed up the next set of stairs. The Redcliff dungeons were extensive and almost barren of life, that awful red lyrium growing out of everything and anything, but thankfully it wasn’t long before they stumbled on Varric.

His stunned reaction to the “dead people” coming to haunt him further damaged her inner walls, the fact that the dwarf had just… given up. The door to his cell wasn’t locked, he still had Bianca strapped to his back, and he was waiting to die. Varric was so disillusioned that he agreed to come with us to pay Alexius back for the end of the world, because, well, it was the end of the world.

Cassandra was in no better shape. Unlocked cell door. Sword and shield still in her possession. Marie’s heart ached, her stomach was twisted into knots, and the last thing on her mind was keeping the tendrils of energy from the storm within from leaking out and dancing between her fingers, or rippling along her staff. Marie could find very little relief in seeing that neither her nor Varric were seriously corrupted by the red lyrium.

“It feels good to be doing… something, at least. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.” Varric said as they climbed yet another set of stair, listening for any remaining guards besides the ones I had killed upon our entry.

“I hope that this is true.” Cassandra said, sounding nothing like the Seeker she had seen just a few short hours before, the lack of conviction in her voice continuing to rattle her.

“Herald, are you-“ Dorian started to ask, watching the tiny arcs hop between her buttons.

“Let’s just find Leliana.” Marie said softly, having been chanting Threnodies under her breath as she climbed the stairs. “…and his Word became all that might be…”  
The sounds of an interrogation came from a door, to the top of the stairs and to the left. Marie knew those sounds; the demand for an answer, the silence or begging, and the subsequent sound of the strike from the interrogator.

“You will break.” She heard the hiss of the interrogator, Marie opening the door to peer inside.

“I will die first.” Marie knew the voice, but what was left of the Spymaster was hardly recognizable. Marie’s heart pounded in her chest as she registered that she was hanging by nothing but her wrists, her skin ashen and sunken, starved and dying, scarred and burned around her dark hollowed eyes. Those eyes met Marie’s, a feral snarl twisting her skeletal features further. “Or you will.”

Twisting her body, her legs snapped around her interrogators neck, twisting until the sound of bones crunched through the air like one of Marie’s thunderclaps. 

“You’re alive.” Leliana whispered as she ran over to get her down, swiping the keys from the body of the interrogator and freeing her wrists from the shackles one arm at a time.

“Looking at you, I wouldn’t have thought you could do that.” Marie said, and Leliana’s scarred face twisted.

“Anger is stronger than any pain. You have weapons?” She eyed Marie over, her eyes approving. “Good. The Magister is probably in his chambers.” She limped past to check a chest in the corner, removing an old bow and a half used quiver of arrows.

“You’re… not curious as to how we got here?” Dorian asked, looking a little confused.

“No.” She replied, slinging the quiver over her shoulder as she tested the pull on the bow.

“Alexius sent us into the future; this, his victory, his Elder one, it’s just never meant to be.” Dorian said anyway, flummoxed that she didn’t want to know.

“If we get back to the present, we can stop any of this from happening.” Marie said, but Leliana’s face twisted again

“And mages wonder why people fear them.” Leliana said with a sneer. “No one should have this power.” Marie felt the sharp stab of pain in her chest, the distrust, how this all yet again turned against mages. 

Mages like her.

“It isn’t like we get a choice in the matter.” Marie responded, her voice steady for the first time since she had arrived in this future. 

“Enough.” Leliana scoffed, pointing a finger at Marie. “This is all pretend to you. Some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real.”

“Then lead me to Alexius.” Marie said softly. “And I swear by the Maker, Andraste, and whatever else there is that you find worthy to swear by, that I will not allow this to come to pass.”

“I don’t need your promises.” Leliana said as she strode out of the room, leading the way.

No, Leliana didn’t need her promises. Those left behind needed them, where she can stop all of this, where she can make the difference. 

Now was when they needed a monster like her.

As the Spymaster led the way, targets finally presented themselves. Marie had already tuned out Dorian and the others, turning inward where the storm in her chest churned. As they marched through Redcliff castle, she settled into her battle stride, her war drum heart pounding the rhythm of death and destruction. The smell of burning flesh assaulted her senses and arcing bolts charged Venatori helms to boil their brains in their own skulls. 

She didn’t pay attention to the errant lightning strikes. She barely registered when Leliana slit the throat of the Magister’s son. 

But she was acutely aware of taking Alexius’ face in her hands after closing the two rifts he had summoned to try to stop her, making sure to meet his eyes, the feel of his stubbled, wrinkled skin against her fingers. She bared her teeth in a feral smile as she reveled in his fear, the moment where he gave up… and she let the storm rage mercilessly through her hands, pumping his body full of her unbridled and unrelenting rage at all he had done. 

Marie watched as his skin peeled back like a bursting rotten fruit, his eyes jellied and sliding free from their sockets, muscles sizzling, fat liquefying and running through her fingers until all that she held her hands was the slippery bones of his skull.

She hadn’t realized that she had been standing there with Alexius’ burned out skull in her hands when Dorian had placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“He deserved to die, Marie… but you need to let go.” 

She snarled, letting go of his skull and letting it bounce off the floor, leaking burnt soggy bits of brain matter and oily human grease.  
Dorian knelt down to take the amulet just as an earth shaking pounding began outside the castle.

“The Elder one comes.” Leliana said, turning to the doors.

“We’ll buy you all the time you need.” Varric said, Cassandra already walking towards the doors as Marie realized that they were going off to die.

“Wait!” She said, snapping back to reality.

“We’re dead anyway.” Leliana said as she notched her bow. “They only way that this will never happen, is if this day never comes. I can give you as much time as I have arrows.”

“We must do this now!” Dorian said, the amulet already floating, rotating in the air, opening a rift as Cassandra’s body was thrown through the doors, blood spraying through the air. 

As Leliana began to recite the Chant, arrows flying with the strength of her reverent words, Dorian pulled Marie through the rift just as she watched the Spymaster fall.

\---------------------------------------------------  
Things in Redcliff did not turn out as he had thought they would. 

Suddenly they were part of a full alliance with the mages, a stone’s throw from the Breach, increasing the danger of abominations exponentially. 

Cullen found himself pacing the war room while he waited for the Herald to return, to yell at her, get her to answer for her decision and take responsibility for the mess she had made of it.

“…We cannot afford to be divided now.” He heard her voice in the Chantry, but he couldn’t wait for her in that stifling room. Pushing the doors open and taking the few strides to confront her, he couldn’t keep it in.

“What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight? The Veil is torn open!”

“Yes, what was I thinking?” The sarcasm in her voice was downright nasty. The Herald was haggard, worn, her hunter eyes bloodshot but still sharp. “Give them their freedom for now then Commander, and if they can’t candle it, impose restrictions. You should be excellent at that.”

“There will be abominations among them, we must be prepared. With the Veil broken, the risk of possessions… Seeker, you were there, why didn’t you intervene?”

“While I may not completely agree with the Herald’s decision, I support it.” Cassandra replied. “The sole point of the Heralds mission was to gain the mages aid, and that was accomplished. Closing the Breach is all that matters.”

“The dark things you saw in this future… the assassination of Empress Celene… a demon army.” Leliana said, her voice ringing with disbelief.

“Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do.” Dorian added, hovering off to the side and wearing that infuriating sarcastic grin. “Orlais falls, the Imperium rises! Chaos for everyone.”

“One battle at a time.” Cullen interrupted. “It’ll take time to organize our troops and our mage recruits. Let’s take this to the war room.”  
As angry as he was, as much as he wanted to howl about her poor decisions and lack of foresight, he was glad to see that she had returned in one piece. 

“Join us, none of this means anything without your mark after all.” Cullen thought he had put some good intention into his tone, thought he had effectively relayed that feeling of relief that simmered below all the other emotions…

He didn’t expect her to flinch.

“Yes. My mark.” She said, sniffing. “I think… I can’t do this right now.”

To his dismay she turned away, pausing a moment as she looked to Dorian. The Tevinter altus reached out a hand and squeezed her shoulder, his lips pursed as she gripped his hand. 

“Are you alright?” He saw Dorian ask, but he didn’t have to listen hard to hear her response.

“No, Dorian. Can you… stay with me again?”

Cullen had to look away. Again? His stomach burned at the thought. He thought that… no. It didn’t matter what he thought. Lady Trevelyan could seek comfort in whomever she liked, he had no say in the matter at all, and it was no surprise that she would find it in another of her kind. Another mage.

Dorian didn’t answer, just followed her out of the Chantry. When Cullen looked to Leliana, he saw the pity in her eyes, hers and Josephine’s.

“There’s work to be done.” He said as he strode back to the war room, hoping that setting his mind to a task would get the thought of them out of his mind.

\-------------------------------------------  
Marie was bent over the pail in her cabin, thoroughly sick again, Dorian holding her hair out of her face as the images of what she had done again permeated her thoughts. She chanted through Threnodies when she could, keeping her inner fortress intact, staggered only by her heaving and heavy breathing.

In the moment she hardly thought about it, hardly registered what she was doing to another living being. Afterwards though, when the smells would haunt her, or just the sight of scrambled eggs reminded her of what happens to a person’s insides when she used her magic on them…

She heaved again, barely anything coming up, unable to even keep water down.

Dorian had tried to make light of it after they had helped evacuate the rebel mages from Redcliff, King Alistair himself kicking them out of his country, saying that he had never actually watched what happened when someone was directly electrocuted to death. Marie knew, all too well, what happened to people. Her hands had started to shake, the ghostly odors tickling her nose, and she had made a quick dash to the back of someone’s home to vomit.

She had been too shaken to sleep, afraid of being alone, like back in the Circle when First Enchanter Godwin would stay with her through the night… just as there was always a Templar by her door. Dorian had taken it upon himself to take care of her as she shivered through the memories, making quiet comforting sounds as he patted her back and kept her hair from her face. The Tevinter had seen what she could do, what she had done, and had taken it in stride despite how horrible it all was.

That night in Redcliff, she had told Dorian about what had happened in Ostwick when the Annulment was declared, her greatest sin. How she had reveled in the slaughter when the storm was set loose, how it had raged at their betrayal. It had drained all the color from the world, the beauty and simplicity tainted, shattering the fragile girl that had once thanked the Templars for their diligence and service.


	6. Like a Rebel Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the rebel mages is a Senior Enchanter who had been at the Circle of Ostwick with Marie, and her Advisors go out of their way to try and learn a few things about their Herald.

Lady Trevelyan had walked serenely into the war room the next morning, clean and poised, her Chanter’s grace and alabaster mask in place. Her hands were folded in front of her as they usually were, the posture of a lady of noble birth, with her hair coiled on her head in a style that was not typical of her. Twisted high with only a small cascade of her chocolate waves to embellish, it was held in place by a sandalwood comb and some unadorned hair pins. Those hunter green eyes were tired, but they still had their sharpness, the intensity he had become accustomed to.

His stomach still burned knowing that those eyes had been on Dorian last night, and that her night had belonged to the Tevinter.

“How have the mages settled in?” Lady Trevelyan asked, her eyes on him first. Cullen felt targeted, as if she was calling him out on his opinions right out of the gate.

“There have been a few complaints, but they have been reminded that they are not in a Circle. The Inquisition is not here to coddle them. They’ve been settled on the western side of Haven.” He replied bruskly, rising to her challenge. 

“Good. Many were hiding from the war in Redcliff, but there are many among them that need to be put to work. There is a lot of useful talent that we can use.” She said, acknowledging but not arguing. He hated to admit it, but her response was unexpected. “I trust you remember how to best utilize the Tranquil that have also been added to our ranks Commander?” 

“Of course.” He answered.

“There are several good healers I know among them, I will make you a list so that they can help with the injured refugees. Lady Montilyet, there are many children that came with the Rebels. I would see that they are housed here in the Chantry. Many of them are mages, with no parents to guide them, so please ask Mother Giselle if she would tend to them.   
Grand Enchanter Fiona is more than willing to help settle them in with the aid of some of the remaining Senior Enchanters. Leliana…”

Lady Trevelyan was like a shining Rebel Queen, suddenly in her element now that she had the mages under her protection. Before she was fortified by sheer determination and conviction, a force to be reckoned with on those merits alone, but now with that came a purpose, and a purpose she was most passionate about. If she hadn’t been born a mage, he could easily imagine her rallying troops to any cause she felt deserved her conviction. The Herald would have been a noble force to be reckoned with in the Free Marches.

There wasn’t a trace of the haggard woman who had staggered into the Chantry last night.

“Any word from the Templars Commander?” He was snapped back to the task at hand as again Lady Trevelyan had her intense eyes on him.

“Not yet, but I did send word as you indirectly requested.” Cullen replied. “And for the record, I don’t believe you to be heartless.”

A static arc of energy started from Lady Trevelyan and bounced between a few of the metal markers on the map, making Josephine jump. The shiver of power ricocheted through the room and made his skin prickle in response to it.

“Leliana…” The herald said between clenched teeth, her eyes glaring now at the Spymaster. “I distinctly asked you repeat only what I said.”

“My apologies Herald, I was only doing as you had asked. I even told him that you had asked me not to. I thought your grumbling was adorable.”

Marie’s cheeks flushed bright pink, her hands gripped tight in front of her as her spine went rigid. 

Cullen sighed and dragged a hand down his face, to hide the grin he had to her reaction.

“I will be leaving for the Storm Coast this afternoon.” Lady Trevelyan said, only a slight hint of her blush in her voice. “I trust that everything will be in order upon my return.” 

Cullen couldn’t help but feel as though the Herald was making a hasty retreat out the doors of the war room, no longer able to look at him as she turned on her heel and fled. 

Leliana giggled, her arms crossed over her chest as she moved closer to Cullen’s part of the table. “That might have worked on Lady Trevelyan Commander, but I saw that.”

“Maker’s breath, can’t we talk of something else?” He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms, wondering if they had something better to do than terrorize him.

“But we’ve found someone who knew the Herald at the Circle of Ostwick.” Josephine said, removing a sheet of paper from her note board and holding it out to Cullen. 

“One of the Rebels listed their Circle of Origin as the Ostwick Circle of Magi, a Senior Enchanter Carter.” Leliana added.

“Send for him as soon as Lady Trevelyan leaves for the Storm Coast. The last thing we need is for her to discover that we have been investigating her.” 

\--------------------------------------  
Cullen had made sure to watch her leave, like he did every time she went out into a new region to gather support and close rifts. Perched delicately upon her armored charger, the small army of scouts, troops, her personal guard marched out to secure a foothold on the Storm Coast. Riding beside her was Dorian, the smug bastard, followed by Varric and Cassandra. Maker willing, she would return with the support of the mercenary company known as the Bull’s Chargers, who had gone out of their way to contact her as opposed to the Inquisition reaching out to them. The Warden Blackwall, who had been recruited to their cause in the Hinterlands, stood with his arms crossed over his chest by the stables, having a good hand for horses. It was where he insisted he be if the Lady didn’t need him.

Word had already gone to Senior Enchanter Carter to meet with Lady Montilyet about housing the children that had come with the Rebel mages, a precaution considering who he might go running to after he is set free from his questioning. If they were careful, Lady Trevelyan wouldn’t learn of it until after they had the information they wanted.

They chose Josephine’s office, which was probably the most comfortable place to do so, having enough room for all three of them to be present while Leliana and Josephine pried at him for information. 

“Lady Montilyet, you summoned me?” Senior Enchanter Carter was a man sitting squarely in his thirties, a bald spot prominent at the top of his head at an unusual angle. His eyes were wary, dark and shrewd, taking in the room with the caution of a seasoned rebel. This was a man who had seen the mage front lines first-hand, Cullen could see that by how he carried himself; cautious, his hands twitching, the pressure of a spell just a heartbeat away. Even in his weakened state, Cullen felt confident that this mage couldn’t hold his own against a former Knight-Captain, yet the Enchanter was willing to try.

It must be the attitude of the mages from Ostwick, he thought as Josephine began her answer.

“Yes, Enchanter Carter. The Herald has placed it in my hands to house the children that have come with you, and has recommended that you help with their relocation inside the Chantry.” Josephine started, flashing her Antivan smile.

The man visibly relaxed, but his fingers still twitched.

“Ah, of course. Lady Marie has already spoken to me of what she has planned, has even recommended a curriculum for keeping with their education. Many of us were gladdened to hear that she had survived what had happened at the conclave.” He said solemnly. “Enchanter Ries has already sent word to her Lord father that she yet lives.”

“You’ve known her long?” Josephine said, leaning forward to express her interest.

“Since before she was brought to us at the Circle.” Enchanter Carver replied. “Bright little thing, loved to visit her uncle. She would bring him handfuls of seeds, stuffed into the pockets of her pinafore, and he would grow them for her. Forgive me, but Ostwick’s Circle was rather lax compared to others in the Free Marches, especially when it came to the Trevelyan’s.” He reached up to scratch the oddly angled bald spot on his head, smiling at the memories.

“Especially when it came to Trevelyan’s? How so?” Cullen asked, the enchanter’s spine going rigid as he looked him over.

“There was always a Trevelyan in Ostwick’s Circle.” He replied. “Maker’s breath, our First Enchanter was Godwin Trevelyan, Lady Marie’s uncle. Before Godwin, her great-uncle Edward was Knight Commander. It was practically a tradition in the family to have at least one member of the House be part of it.”

“Did the Trevelyan’s also assume special titles within the Circle?” Leliana asked, and the man’s face softened with his smile.

“No, no… nothing special like that.” Enchanter Carver replied. “Although the poor girl was treated differently, she was an apprentice like all the other young ones. I always tried to slip her a sweet cake when it was my turn to tutor her. All that Chanter nonsense was keeping her from being the bright little girl she was.”

How unusual, Cullen thought. Why would a mage apprentice be taught a crucial step in becoming a Sister, when they couldn’t be a part of the Chantry? It explained why she walked the way she did, her unhurried, serene strides, the way she moved with her hands folded together.

“I take it that Lord Trevelyan and the First Enchanter had high hopes for her, after all… she has impeccable poise and manners, a lady after my own heart.” Josephine said, flattering the man’s pride in his Lady Marie.

“Of course, she was being groomed to rise to Godwin’s place. A Trevelyan never held a minor title, even in the Circle. Nothing but First Enchanter would do. Lady Marie had her own Templar guard and everything, private tutors and her own room… nothing but the best for Lady Marie. I guess it is why she is so passionate about making sure that the children continue a proper education.”

Her own Templar guard? Templar’s were trained to keep a certain distance from their charges, but protected them as a whole. They weren’t a part of family politics, and most certainly couldn’t be commanded by the First Enchanter to stand guard over his Chanting niece. No, there was something about Lady Trevelyan than the Templars at Ostwick knew about, something they thought necessitated a constant guard on one apprentice.

“If Lady Trevelyan has already spoken to you about a curriculum as well as the children’s relocation, I don’t see a need to really discuss this further.” Josephine said, coming around her desk to politely shake the Enchanter’s shaking hand. “If you need anything to help with the children, please do not be afraid to ask.”

“Of course, Lady Montilyet. I am beyond delighted to know that Lady Marie has such staunch support from the Inquisition in these matters. Wars have a tendency of brushing aside those who are in the most need.”

“Enchanter Carver, if you don’t mind I have one more question for you.” Cullen said before Josephine could let the mage go.

Enchanter Carver smiled and waited, basking in the sweet memories that still filled his mind. “Of course Commander.”

“Why did the Circle call Lady Trevelyan Thunderborn?”

As if in reaction, one of his shaky hands leapt to the bald spot on his head, his eyes turning sharp as his other hand pointed a shaky angry finger at him.

“Out of respect for Lady Marie, and the trust she has placed in you, I will tell you this… leave it alone.”

The Enchanter slowly walked out, still scratching that awkward bald spot on his head, closing the door softly behind him as the three of them stood in silence.

“You have as much subtlety as a landslide, Commander.” Josephine said, her lips set in a grim line.

“But we know now that whatever the Thunderborn is, the Templars were scared of it.” Cullen responded. “They guard mages, yes, but there are only so many Templars assigned to a Circle. They couldn’t afford to place one apprentice under constant watch unless they felt it necessary. If only there were Templar survivors from Ostwick…”

“Commander… I will continue my search for information but… I believe now is the time to stop.” Leliana said, Cullen furrowing his brow at her in puzzlement.

“What she is could be very dangerous, and if we don’t know what it is, we won’t be prepared if things go wrong.” And things always seemed to go wrong, Cullen thought. To protect the Inquisition, to protect her, they needed know.

“I think that Enchanter Carver made an interesting observation.” Leliana said. “He sees that she has placed trust in us. Perhaps we should trust her in return, to tell us when she is ready, or to never let it.”

Cullen had kept the fact that her magic called to him and the other’s, that when that power filled an area like a roll of thunder, the Templars couldn’t help but respond. The mages too, they were drawn to her unusual power like moths to a flame. 

He could see her eventually trusting Leliana, Josephine… but him?

“Maker, I hope you are right.”


	7. The Calm Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie recruits Iron Bull, and Vivienne and Sera arrive. Awkward conversation between her and Cullen is awkward. Dorian plays with hair.

Iron Bull was easily the largest Qunari she had ever seen in her life. He had quickly introduced himself after Marie and the others came down the mountainside, quarrels from Bianca flying, Cassandra’s sword flashing, Marie having literally lit up like a Feast Day tree as the rain caused her lightning to chain in strange patterns through the air.

The sea roiled and slammed mercilessly against the coast, forcing her to raise her voice just to be heard by the Qunari, who had set out his terms of service before declaring himself a member of the Ben’Hassrath; the spies of the Qun. 

“Cassandra is a Chantry Seeker, Varric is a professional smart-ass, Dorian is a Tevinter pariah, and I’m a rebel mage from the Free Marches. We accept all kinds.” Marie said with a chuckle, and Bull laughed.

“That you do!” He bellowed. “Chargers, pack up! We’ve just been hired.”

“Welcome to the Inquisition.” Marie said formally, and wasn’t anywhere near prepared for the hard slap on the shoulder that sent her stumbling forward. She felt her energy woven barrier react, still charged with the storm inside, and a brief moment of panic set in.

“Ooo, that stings!” Iron Bull was shaking his arm, grinning like a happy fool as he strode towards his mercenaries. “Looking forward to working with you, Boss. We’ll meet you at Haven!”

Marie was at a loss for words as Varric strode over, looking up at her with his hands on his hips. 

“I’ve seen Templars in full armor get too close to you and they’ve exploded into little Templar bits, and Tiny there hits you and laughs as if it tickles.” Varric chuckled as Marie rubbed her sore shoulder, absolutely positive there would be a big hand shaped bruise by the time the sun set.

“I’m rather glad he didn’t explode, otherwise the Commander would have flayed me alive for obliterating a new ally on accident.” 

“Only worried about Curly? If I were you, Red would be at the top of my ‘oh shit’ list.”

It didn’t do her any good to hide the blush, it came on too fast for her to do anything about it, so Marie cleared her throat, straightened her Enchanter’s coat, and tried not to let the little tendrils of electricity lash out at anything nearby… namely Varric. 

“I get along perfectly fine with Sister Leliana, so she is not at the top of my ‘oh shit’ list.” Marie replied primly, folding her hands together as she began to walk meditatively away from the Dwarf. 

“Sparky, only you could make swearing sound dignified.” 

\----------------------------------------------------  
It took her a week before she was again riding over the bridge to Haven, her eyes scanning the training field for any traces of the Commanders furry mantle. It didn’t take her long before her sharp eyes found him, his small army of messengers coming and going, his arms motioning as he barked orders at the training militia in between answering those messengers.

Marie felt the ripple of power and reabsorbed it before it arced and spooked the horses. Again. 

She could hear the damn dwarf laughing behind her somewhere, she just knew it.

Her charger thundered up with the other horses to the stables, Marie mobbed quickly by stable hands and messengers as she took a meditative breath, securing her inner fortress, and dismounted. The first report was that the mages had been prepared to close the Breach, the children of the Rebellion safe and secure within the walls of the Chantry. The second; Bull’s Chargers had made their camp by the front gates, and were already causing some controversy amongst the volunteer soldiers of the Inquisition.  
Marie sighed as she gathered up a small pile of reports from the various messengers that just couldn’t wait until she had settled in, tucking them under her arm as she made promises to get right to them, but the first thing on her mind was getting to her cabin, shutting the door, and being alone.

She was almost there when a voice she recognized all too easily made arcs touch the door handle of her cabin, almost dropping the stack of reports that were under her arm.

“Lady Trevelyan, a word.” The Commander approached her, Templar swagger in his every step as his hand balanced on the pommel of his sword. 

“Yes, Commander?” She said, sounding more exasperated than she intended, wanting to just get inside and hide. Marie had gotten so used to him scowling and arguing with her that she was bracing for yet another fight, wondering what could have sparked this next bout while she had been gone.

“When you’re ready, the troops and mages are prepared to march to the temple to attempt to close the Breach.” Wonderful, Marie thought, another report, almost as bad as an argument with the Commander. It usually led to another thing that the two of them shared opposing views on and there would be the inevitable battle of wills.

“Plan on marching first thing in the morning Commander, have the mages take time to rest and gather their mana. I plan to do the same.” She said as she moved the reports in front of her, clutching them to her chest as though it might help keep her heart from pounding too loudly.

“Of course. We will be ready to march first thing.” He replied before continuing. “The Red Jenny… representative… arrived earlier in the week, as well as Lady Vivienne of the Circle of Montsimmard.” The expected answer, almost rehearsed, but Marie could see in those honey hued eyes of his that there was something else he wanted to say, and he would most likely find a way to say it that would instigate their inevitable fight. Maybe one of the mage children set fire to one of his precious Templars? One of the Senior Enchanters brandished their staff in the wrong direction? Did Sera steal his breeches?

Marie didn’t care, she just wanted to be left alone, and the Commander already made her nervous.

“I know that we… don’t agree on much.” The Commander rubbed the back of his neck, a quirk of his that Marie had noticed when he wasn’t sure what to say, or that he was uncomfortable. Like when she had dared to ask if he had taken a vow of chastity, which she was ashamed to admit had made her blush even worse when she had walked away from the man and hid.

“That’s an understatement.” Marie said dead-pan. It earned her a rare chuckle from the former Templar that made her skin tingle with the power that leaked out. How she enjoyed that elusive sound.

“Indeed. Well… despite all that, I wanted to ask how you were holding up.”

The memories flashed through unbidden, the ghostly smell tickling her nose, the slippery skull in her hands. The red lyrium growing out of Fiona, Leliana’s tortured and dying silhouette, how Varric had just… given up. The burning, frozen, rotten stench of mage-templar battlefields, the desperation…

Marie had to swallow the bile in her throat before answering. 

“I’ll let you know once the Breach is closed.” She tried to smile, hoped that is was convincing.

“I’ll hold you to that, Herald.” He said with a small smile. 

“Waiting up for me?” From behind the Commander, Dorian sauntered over, his immaculate moustache and Tevinter strut getting the scowl Marie had expected to be aimed at her. “You shouldn’t have.”

Thank the Maker.

“The Commander was stopping by to check on me.” Marie said politely, gesturing to Cullen as Dorian winked at her.

“It seems you have a busy evening before you.” Commander Cullen said, his voice laced with animosity. “There’s work to be done before the morning march, so be sure to get your rest Herald.”

He turned on his heel, Templar swagger walking towards the first group of soldiers in range, and immediately started to bark orders to them.

“Shall we?” Dorian asked as he blocked her view of the Commander.

“Please.” She said, sounding almost desperate as she opened her door and fled inside.

Marie didn’t bother holding on to her reports, the papers scattering all over the floor as she sprinted for the pail she had become too intimate with as of late. While she was getting sick again, Dorian quietly collected the reports she had dropped, giving her the moment she needed alone as she collected herself again. He placed the papers on the rough-hewn table that she had been using as a desk of sorts, placing a paper weight on them as Marie sat on the floor with the pail.

“You know the Commander fancies you.” Dorian said as he picked up the silver boar brush from her night stand, and Marie scoffed even as her chest tightened.

“It doesn’t matter.” She replied as Dorian walked over to her while she was still on the floor, pulling the sandalwood comb and pins from her chocolate hair, letting it tumble free with the coaxing of his practiced fingers.

“I’m just making sure you’re not as oblivious as you look, sweetheart. Walking around like a Chantry sister must really do it for Templars.” 

He grabbed the one chair in the one room cabin, setting it behind her as he sat down and finger combed her long, wavy hair. The dark chocolate waves fell to her hips, and Dorian discovered that Marie had a weakness for having her hair played with, that it calmed her quicker than coddling and soothing sounds. He was the one who had gifted her with the sandalwood comb. 

“There are more important things to think about than what Templars think of me.” She said miserably. “… Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm…”

Dorian began to brush, starting from her scalp and slowly bringing it to the ends, repeating the motion until her hair shown like lacquered orlesian mahogany. She sighed contentedly, slurring through more of her chant.

“…Do you really think he does?” She managed to ask timidly, Dorian watching a slight blush creep up her neck as she turned just enough to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, you didn’t know? I thought you weren’t oblivious.” Dorian said as he gathered her hair in his hands, tying it with a blue silk ribbon; another gift from the Tevinter. Her blush rose further, reaching her ears now.

Marie began chanting again, her eyes on the floor and sounding disheartened. “I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder…” He took her by the shoulders and turned her towards him, getting her attention away from her spiraling inner thoughts. Spiraling inwards toward the storm she quieted in her breast.

“Sweetheart, you are ravishing. I have trouble understanding how you don’t know that. If I didn’t like men so much, I would sweep you off your feet and take you in the manliest fashion I could think of. Feeling better?”

Still blushing, Marie nodded.

“Do you want me to stay the night?”

Marie shook her head.

“Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?”

Marie still felt ashamed as a grown woman that she wanted him to stay, to hold her hand until she could fall asleep, but Dorian knew that. He took her silence as a confirmation and helped her to her feet, laying her down in her bed and pulling the blankets up around her like a cocoon. He took the chair and moved it over to the side of her bed, planting himself in it as Marie reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers tightly. Dorian was her safety.

He didn’t say anything further, just leaned himself against the edge of her bed and lay his head on his arm, holding her hand as she curled up within her blankets.   
Marie recalled the sound of Cullen’s soft laugh, replaying like a song in her head, and used it to keep the nightmares away.


	8. To Stand and Fall, Or Flee and Fade Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie closes the Breach, leaving the sky scarred, but now that the time has passed she feels that she cannot stay, that she is too much of a danger to those around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard one to write! To everyone who has left comments, it is really inspiring and makes me want to continue. Not that I was going to stop, but they definitely help. ^.^ Thank you so much!

Cullen was up before dawn, having slept fitfully that night and giving up as the sky had begun to lighten. Rolling out of his bed, setting his feet on the cold dirt floor, he tried to clear his mind of the nightmares the lyrium withdrawal made worse, the pain in his limbs sharpest just as he was shaking them off. It was a dull ache at the best of times, and at the worst of times…

Cassandra watched him, as he had asked her to, when he had left the Templars. He didn’t want to lose any more of himself to the lyrium, as badly as he might want to take it again.

He dressed himself, pulling his shirt over his head, the underpadding for his armor, the breastplate and pauldrons buckled into place. It was a ritual, putting on his armor. He’d been wearing some sort of armor every day for over fifteen years, he didn’t feel complete without it. By the time he pulled on his leather gloves, buckling on his sword belt and donning his fur mantle, the sun had begun to peek over the horizon and fill the valley with light.

“Maker have mercy on us, and bring us a victory today.” He said as he opened the door and looked across the trodden snow to the already wide awake Haven.

The troops were filing through the front gates, the platoons he had chosen to secure the Temple while Lady Trevelyan attempted to close the Breach. Leliana’s forward scouts should have already left Haven to secure the route that they would march, and the mages would have already been outside of Haven and preparing to move the required lyrium safely into the mountains. If Lady Trevelyan was anywhere, it was with the mages. 

With Dorian.

He withheld the growl that threatened to come up as the first messenger ran up to him, giving him the first report of the day.

“Commander, Captain Rylen has begun the preparations and has requested your review of the troops before the Herald arrives.” 

“Commander, Senior Enchanter Ries reports that the lyrium is ready to move.”

“Commander! Sister Leliana sent word that the route up the mountain is secure.”

“Commander-“

It was like this every day, but today there was more urgency. Today the Herald would close the Breach and the recovery could finally begin. 

Command thankfully came naturally to Cullen, and he didn’t waste a moment.

\------------------------------  
Marie was with the mages, standing with Dorian and Solas as the Enchanters secured the lyrium. Solas did most of the coordinating, explaining with his calm, measured tone and vast knowledge exactly what needed to be done to supply Marie with the mana necessary to close the Breach. She knew many of the Senior Enchanters, had fought beside some of them, had sacrificed pieces of humanity to the storm to see them survive. 

Enchanter Carver was one of those, carrying the scars proudly, even as he scratched at them with his irreparably shaky hands.

“Lady Marie, my dear, it is so good to see you.” He said as she let him take her hand, bending just enough to bring it to his lips to give it a fatherly kiss. “Are you ready for this?”

“Of course I am, Master Carver.” She said, smiling brightly at her old friend. He had been one of her many, many tutors at the Circle, one of her favorites. He would sneak her sweet cakes and card games, sometimes even smuggling in a chess board to distract her from the relentless lessons. Carver had fought many times with Godwin about his “distractions,” and Marie had always been grateful for it.

“Master Solas has helped pick compatible Enchanters to reduce the risk, my lady.” He said with a smile, patting her hand reassuringly. Marie was excruciatingly thankful to have such allies in all this madness, willing to fight to keep her secret safe, to keep all around her safe. 

“’Though the land has suffered a thousand wrongs, the Maker yet notices the smallest of deeds’ master Carver. Thank you.”

He waved at her with a smile. “You don’t have to recite that chanter nonsense to me, Lady Marie. A simple thank you will do just fine.” 

“All is prepared, Herald. The mages are ready to march when you are.” Solas said as he leaned on his staff.

“One last thing, my lady.” Carver said as he leaned up to kiss her cheek, getting close enough to whisper to her. “You’re advisors are asking questions. I believe the Templar is digging. I warned him to leave it be, but I don’t think he will listen.”

Marie made sure to keep wearing her smile as she patted his hand in return, keeping up the act as his sharp eyes continued to warn her. 

“I will keep that in mind, Master Carver.” Marie said, releasing his hand and refolding them in their customary position over her belly. 

The Chant was like white noise in the back of her mind as she went about and talked to the mages, introducing herself to some she had never met before and greeting the others while she thought through her situation. She trusted that Carver hadn’t let slip any information that would endanger her, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t find it. It was only a matter of time before they learned of the storm, the heart that beat feral in her chest, and she would be gone before they could discover what terrible things that meant.

“I know that look.” Dorian said as he sauntered up beside her. “Planning on running at the first opportunity?”

“I may have to. How have you become so good at reading me?” She said quietly as she began to walk towards the stables, the meditative strides that kept time with the chant in her mind. 

“I’m amazing, dear Herald. ‘Tis merely one of my many talents.” He preened. 

Marie pursed her lips, unable to verbally admit her desire to run with so many pilgrims and soldiers within earshot, especially when they were hours from making the attempt to close the Breach.

“One battle at a time, my friend.” She said as a stable hand walked her horse out, the armored charger saddled and ready. She put a foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself into the saddle by the horn, Dorian handing her the reins after he took them from the stable hand.

“Good luck, sweetheart.” Dorian said as he sauntered away, giving Marie the room to nudge her horse forward with a light tap of her heels.

She let her charger canter over to the bulk of the troops that would be marching up the mountain, spotting Commander Cullen as she made a broad circle around the soldiers, letting them see her. It meant something to them to see their Herald of Andraste, whether or not it was true, a lesson she had learned from her Lord father long ago as she followed him in a manor house far away.

The Commander looked fierce in his lion helm and armor as he mounted his own steed, holding his sword high as the troops answered by raising theirs, cheering loudly. The Ferelden warm-blood was a more modest choice of mount, but it was no less spirited as the Commander rode to catch up and meet Marie’s canter.

“Sister Leliana will meet us at the Temple. Maker willing, everything will go as planned.” He said, his voice slightly muffled by the helm on his head.

“Let’s make this count, Commander.” She said kicking her horse into a gallop, the Commander falling behind as she led the march. 

\-----------------------------------------  
Amazingly, everything did go as planned.

They reached the Temple with minimal delays, Sister Leliana already at the temple as Cullen directed the troops to secure it. Lady Trevelyan and Solas orchestrated the mages they had brought to power the mark on the Herald’s hand, Cullen having licked his lips beneath his helm as each of them quaffed philters of lyrium to boost their mana. The only one pausing before taking theirs was the Herald herself.

The thrum of magic that hummed through the earth when that blue liquid passed through her lips made his skin prickle as he felt her power start to surge, feeling more secure in the decision to leave all the Templars in Haven for this task. When they had all gone within the temple, where the Breach writhed and reached into the sky, he could feel the slow build of that strange siren’s call. It brought his instincts screaming to the fore as a green flash filled the air, but he didn’t fight it. All he could do was allow it to flow through him, let the blood pound through his body and roar in his head as the magic spiked to its’ peak and physically shook the earth.

The Breach slammed closed, the magic breaking and blowing out in a strong gust of manifested power.

A rallying cry rose from the troops and mages as the Herald stepped out of the temple, looking tired, disheveled… and stunning. Her dark chocolate hair had been whipped loose by the outburst of power, tumbling and windblown to cascade to her hips, cheeks flushed, her sharp hunter green eyes bright against her alabaster skin. 

He was glad that Dorian had been left behind. Cullen didn’t need to see him near her as she took her staff and held it high, flashing a brilliant smile.

A victory at last.

\---------------------------------------------------  
Marie was exhausted, but the spirits of the Inquisition’s forces gave her the strength to make it down the mountain and back to Haven, where the celebration had already started. It had taken so much of her mana, and the mana of the other mages that had helped close the Breach, that she was surprised she was still on her feet when she found herself standing alone in her cabin.

It had been a resounding success.

The storm had stayed quiet, the lyrium she had hesitantly taken not even stirring the feral power locked inside, and Solas had masterfully siphoned all that flowing mana through himself, through her, and the breach slammed closed, leaving a scar in the sky. There was still work to be done, rifts still scattered across Thedas needed her attention, but the Inquisition wouldn’t need her anymore after that. The mages wouldn’t need her. Marie could disappear.

Commander Cullen sprung to mind, the danger and the temptation, both a valid reason to run and a wishful reason to stay. He infuriated her, fought with just as much passion for his cause as she did hers, no less than a former Templar Knight-Commander... and he made her heart pound mercilessly. She was getting tired of spooking the horses when she would get caught looking for him on the field.

Marie scooped up the brush that Dorian had left on her rough-hewn table as her face grew hot, pulling it through her tangled hair as she only had a few minutes before someone would come pounding on her door to drag her into the celebration. 

Besides, she thought, she didn’t have a clue as to what she would do about it. Oh, she knew what to do in theory; she was not so innocent that she didn’t know what happened between men and women behind closed doors, but nothing about the practical application. Maker’s breath, the first and only time she’d kissed a boy he had acquired a permanent stutter once he had finally woken up. No further attempts had been made after that, Marie avoiding such attentions altogether.

“Sparky, I know you’re hiding in there!” Varric was at the door as she hurried to fix her hair, settling for an easy bun held together by the sandalwood comb Dorian had given her.

It was going to be hard to let them all go, but it would be safer for them all, for him, if she were gone.

“Give me a moment Varric, I’ll be right out!” She called out, putting down her brush and composing herself before opening the door. The dwarf was standing there with a sly grin on his face.

“Done powdering your nose Sparky? ‘Cause Curly’s been prowling around looking for you.”

She didn’t even have to look as the light flashed, sparks arcing between the buttons of her enchanters coat as her heart rattled around in her chest, pursing her lips and glaring down at Varric.

“Come on Sparky, there’s no need to look at me like that.” Varric said, winking at her as she decided it was best just to walk away. Marie had too many things on her mind to just celebrate, too many things she had to do before she could fade away.

\-------------------------------------------------------  
Clouds had moved in and snowflakes began to fall, sticking to the fur of his mantle and in his hair as he moved through the camps in Haven. The Herald had managed to slip away, effectively disappearing from the ever watchful eyes of the faithful, and Cullen would have believed that she had made an escape with Dorian; except he was with Varric. 

So Cullen had made his rounds, slow and deliberate, hand balanced on the pommel of his sword as he tried not to be too obvious in his search for Lady Trevelyan. He passed by the mages camp, and didn’t see her graceful chanter’s stride. He made an appearance at the Charger’s camp, only to have to turn down drinks with Iron Bull and make his escape through the front gate, but no Herald. He even made a quick sweep through the tavern, thinking that he would never find her there… he was right; no Herald. She was not with Solas, Sera, Lady Vivienne, Blackwall, or any of the others she had personally recruited.

That left only one place; the Chantry.

It was nearly abandoned, the children that came with the mages slumbering in the Sister’s rooms. The candles burned around the statues of Andraste and lit the vaulting front hall in the soft light he had found soothing as he heard soft Chanting from the far end of the Chantry. 

Cullen saw that the door to the war room was left open, just a bit, and the source of the chanting was inside. He didn’t want to disturb whoever was inside, listening to the soft words.

“Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me. Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder.”

Peering inside he saw her, illuminated by candlelight as Lady Trevelyan recited parts of the Canticle of Trials, her hands brushing over the map as she moved around the war table. She seemed so focused on the map as she made notes of the small markers, her fair brow furrowed in deep thought as she moved around Ferelden. While the Inquisition celebrated a victory at last, here she was; hard at work, planning out her next steps as if the weight of it all was placed firmly on her small shoulders alone. Most of it was, he thought, the Lady having been shoved headlong to the head of an army of the faithful.

He opened the door slowly, not wanting to surprise her, her back to him as she studied the hinterlands and the Marshes. 

“… Though all before me is shadow, Let the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads-“ She picked up the paper she had been making notes on, a smaller map, and finally noticed him, jumping in surprise as small arcs of light skittered between the buttons of her coat, a hand pressed to her chest. “Maker’s breath, Commander! You startled me.”

“That was not my intent, Herald… I’m just surprised to find you here.” Lady Trevelyan moved around the table, putting some distance between them.

“I’ve never been one to rest on my laurels. The war with the Templars has taught me that-” She pursed her lips as she shook her head, chuckling as she gave a tired smile. “I’m sorry. There is work to be done and I would see it through. I really don’t want to fight with you right now.”

“I can’t fault you for which side of the war you stood on, Lady Trevelyan. What is important is that you are using that experience to further our cause.” Cullen said as he moved to stand beside her, to look over what she was doing more closely.

He didn’t get the chance, the Herald giving him the distinct impression that she was running from him as she skirted around to the other side of the table. Still wary of him, defensive, always putting something between them to give her the advantage, the Mage retreating from the Templar.

He tried to smile instead of wince, seeing her clutch the map to her chest like she had that pile of reports the day before; another wall. 

“I still have a lot to do tonight before I can retire…” Her eyes were on the table, actively avoiding him as she clutched her map. This was not the woman with the steel clad conviction he had come to admire, that daunting strength strikingly faded as he realized that she was defending herself against him.

Cullen’s chest felt tight as he placed his hands on the war table, his brow furrowed as he watched her, Ostwick’s rebel queen standing with all of her impressive defenses up. No, not all of them… her magical barriers were absent, her staff near the door on his side of the table.

“Lady Trevelyan, I-“

“Commander, once I have fulfilled my promises to the Inquisition,once the rifts are closed and the threat is gone, I will be leaving.” She interrupted, her intense hunter eyes catching his. There was that conviction, the iron will that he admired; and in that moment, he hated her for it.

“Why?” He growled, his fists clenching as he prepared to fight her on it. His ferocity at her words had her furrowing her brow, pursing her lips. 

“’And they shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall not find rest in this world or beyond.’” Lady Trevelyan quoted, giving him a sad smile. “I am no fool, Commander… you know what the Chantry calls me. There isn’t, nor will there ever be, a place for me here.”

“And what of the mages? You’ve championed them on every field, out there and in this very room, you would abandon them?”

“I have given them purpose, safety!” She snapped, the fierceness in her eyes as she slammed a fist down onto the table. “I have given my brethren a chance to make a difference, to show to a world that is watching that mages are not monsters, but people; true believers! I cannot be a crutch for them or they will fall.” Lady Trevelyan stood tall, defiant, as the rage that roiled in those intense eyes pinned him as she then calmly spoke. “If you only knew the sins I’ve committed for the greater good of every man, woman, and child born with magic in their veins, you would smite me without a moments’ pause.”

Cullen had to calm himself, standing straight as he forced his hands to loosen from the fists they were so keen to hold on to. Lady Trevelyan had risen to his challenge, but he didn’t want her to fight him. He wanted her to understand. “The pilgrims that flock here do not flock to a Maleficar, they flock to the Herald of Andraste, to you. You give them hope that the Maker has not abandoned them, because what you have become is far greater than what you were.”

“Commander!”

The scout that came barreling through the Chantry burst through the door to the war room, looking shaken.

“What?” Cullen snapped, his anger still simmering close to the surface.

“An army approaches Haven from the pass.” The scout said, pointing through the Chantry doors.

“Flying what banner?” He demanded.

“None.”


	9. Tailor Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Siege of Haven has begun, and Marie stands in the Inquisitions defense.

Marie’s heart was already pounding in her ears when the scout barged in, her anger having set her blood on fire as she tried to warn the Commander away, to make it clear that nothing would change her mind. 

She hadn’t expected that he would fight her so fiercely.

But an army under no banner marching on Haven? Something didn’t feel right. Marie raised a hand to her staff, using her magic to draw the copper laced weapon to her, catching it firmly in both hands as Commander Cullen marched out the door after the scout. Marie, staff tapping against the Chantry’s stone floor, followed swiftly after them.

The warning bells pealed through the air as they sprinted to the gates, the Commander’s voice ringing out. “Forces approaching! To arms!” 

“Dorian, Varric! With me!” Marie called to her companions, the Tevinter and the dwarf running to match her stride as she sprinted past them. Iron Bull and his second, Kremisius, were moving the Chargers into position to help troops and pilgrims get inside of Haven, the Qunari nodding to her as she came to a skidding stop.

“One watch guard reporting Herald, a massive force coming over the mountain.” The Commander was already ahead of her, barking the report at her as he pointed beyond the doors. “The Scout was right; no banner.”

Then, something strong and ominous pounded on the gate. Bull pulled his massive weapon from over his shoulder, Varric cocking Bianca as both she and Dorian held their staffs at the ready. 

“I can’t come in unless you open!” The voice of a young man, Marie frightened that people had been locked out of the safety of Haven as she pushed past the guards and began pulling the gate open herself. Others came to her aid, pulling the gate open, and to her surprise the young man she heard was pulling a long dagger from the back of a heavily armored… Templar?

“I’m Cole. I came to warn you, to help.” The young man said as he approached me. People are coming to hurt you, you probably already know-”

“What is this? What’s going on?” Marie asked, trying to restrain her panic as she noticed that the other bodies with the one that the young man, Cole, had just felled were all Templars.

“The Templars come to kill you.” Marie’s insides turned to mush as she felt herself pale, her hands starting to shake even as she gripped the staff, but the rage inside of her made her lip curl as she looked to the lights in the Valley, the approaching army of Templars. 

“The Templars? Is this the Order’s response to our alliance with the mages, to attack blindly?” The Commander was in a state of disbelief, looking to Marie as her whole body began to seethe and shake.

“The red Templars went to the Elder One.” Cole said desperately. “You know him? He knows you. You stole his mages… there.” The young man pointed to a rise in the Valley, two figures standing above the attacking force. One of them was a man, clad in the armor adorned with the Order’s flaming sword, lined with red and smiling. The other…

It was a darkspawn, dressed as a Magister, with shards of stone and lyrium growing out of his twisted flesh. 

“He is very angry that you took his mages.” Cole said, turning to look at Marie from under his extra wide hat.

Marie was once again back in the Circle, the Templar holding her hands as he promised he would protect her, the clashing sounds outside the door as she shook and chanted. They were coming for her, to silence the threat even as First Enchanter Godwin and Uncle Edward had fought them, but she hadn’t known that a Rite of Annulment was given, that they were there not just to kill her, but everyone. As the recruit had pulled her to him, breaking their precious rules as he wrapped his armored arms around her, his voice filled with the promises she held on to so desperately. 

“Cullen, give me a plan! Anything!” Marie shouted as they ran back inside.

“Haven is no fortress.” Cullen started. “If we are to withstand this monster we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force with everything you can.” Cullen turned away from Marie, drawing his sword as he moved to command. “Mages! You! You have sanction to engage them. That is Samson, he will not make it easy. Inquisition, with the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!”

The Commander had stirred the defenses, but now it was Marie’s turn to take to the front and, as he said, hit them with everything she could. The storm inside stirred, the arcs of light rippling along her arms as she spun her staff and cast her barrier, lacing it with the potent strength of her electricity. Now was not the time to be cautious, Marie needed the feral magic if she were to defend Haven.

“Bull, we need to secure the trebuchets!” Marie used her staff to direct, starting the sprint to the front line. 

“On it boss!” Bull answered with a big, happy grin, the first of the Templars coming up the hill as his war hammer, moving to intercept them.

“Varric, cover Bull! Dorian-“

“I’ve got it sweetheart, you help arm those trebuchets!” Dorian began to spin his staff, firing bolts of icy across a fast spreading battlefield. Marie climbed to the platform where one man was turning the winch. She dropped her staff to the boards of the platform and went hand over hand, helping arm the trebuchet faster as the rest of the engineers loaded the siege weapon. Jumping back, scooping up her staff, the siege engineer gave the signal that they were ready as she fired a few covering bolts at the advancing Templars below.

“Fire!” 

The arm swung, pulling the load up and over as it fired against the mountainside, the engineers calling to load it again. There was a grand cheer as it struck, causing a minor avalanche to bury them, but Marie was once again hand-over-hand after dropping her staff again, intent on keeping the siege weapons firing.

“Bianca, you minx, that was beautiful!” She heard Varric from in front of the machinery, scanning below to make sure everything was still going as planned as they prepared the next shot. The front was good, Bull, Dorian, and Varric holding the deformed Templars running to meet them from reaching the siege weaponry, but something was wrong.

Looking around, she saw that their second trebuchet wasn’t firing.

Scooping up her staff, knowing that this engine was in good hands, Marie ran down the steps and around the firing trebuchet to cut through the back paths, the one the engineers used to travel between the war machines. Magic and arrows flew from overhead as Marie rounded the bend below the wall, finding that the siege engine had been overrun.

Now up close, standing with her copper cored staff, she could see them. 

They were once men, warped as the red lyrium twisted their bodies. Some of them were still human in form, their eyes glowing that ghastly bloody shade, but others had the lyrium growing out of them as it had grown out of Fiona in Redcliff. She would have been ill… if Marie wasn’t so close to the edge of her control, where the deep seated rage fed the storm that spun tighter and fiercer within her chest.

“Templars.” She hissed as she changed her stride, the ever present chant growing quiet in her mind. She advanced to the beat of her war-drum heart, her staff spinning and starting her dance with thunder laced bolts of energy finding her first target. With the magic now singing feral through her body, a vicious smile curling her lips, she knew the Templars couldn’t resist her call, no matter how corrupted they had become. Planting her staff, Marie sent shivers of thunder through the earth, spikes of virulent electricity meeting the metal in their emblazoned armor.

She could smell their burning, hear the sizzle of their flesh as it cooked within the confines of their defense, striding into the fray as those left standing after her initial assault closed to meet her.

Marie laughed as the first Templar to make contact sizzled before he bursted.

\--------------------------------------------------------  
Cullen was pleased to see that the siege weapons were giving them an advantage, buying them time to fortify and hold their ground. Yes, Haven was no fortress, but controlling the battle with the trebuchets was critical to their survival.

He barked his orders from atop their modest battlements, noticing too late that one of their trebuchets was taken by the red Templar forces.

Cullen was about to give the command to retake it, use the mages stationed on the battlements to cover the troops, but there she was, her potent magic finally making an appearance as he recognized that predators gait from atop the wall. He could feel the pull, even as his warriors instincts were already sharp and acutely aware, his blood pounding in his ears.

Maker’s breath, why was she alone? Where were Dorian and the others?

The power hummed through the earth as Lady Trevelyan slammed her staff into the ground, streaks of light skittering through the dirt and snow, rising as spikes of lightning that struck the red Templars right in their defenses; their steel plate mail. The stench of burning flesh rose with the snow as her forward march didn’t slow, several of the red Templars closing with her. He hadn’t expected her to allow them to get so close, the Herald parrying a few blows with her staff as one of the Templar swords made contact with her arm.

And he shuddered as the Templar exploded, filling the air with a fine red mist as bits of the templar scattered out wide.

Lady Trevelyan danced between her targets, staff spinning, flashes of light and hard claps of thunder answered by sizzling and sheets of spraying blood. The Rebel of Ostwick was a mage tailor-made to kill Templars, he realized, and brutally efficient in close quarters combat unlike most mages. The way she used her magic, the fearlessness to step into range of an ordained sword, he could understand why her dossier had so many names listed as fallen in service to the Chantry.

Cullen broke his gaze from the Herald, realizing that now was the time to reclaim the trebuchet.

“You! Get troops in there to aid the Herald, and engineers to man that trebuchet!” He shouted at the closest soldier. “Mages, cover their advance!”

Lady Trevelyen had already cleared the siege weapon of Templars by the time the trebuchet was again manned by Inquisition soldiers, the Herald already up on the platform and pulling the winch hand-over-hand to arm it.

Heavy wingbeats broke the sounds of battle, a shadow skimming over Haven’s walls as the screech of a dragon pierced through the night. Cullen saw the breath first, lighting the creature in bloody red fire as it made a pass over the other siege engine, destroying it in the blink of an eye.

Cullen’s hopes for survival plummeted as that dragon gave the red Templars an advantage that they couldn’t match.

\------------------------------------  
Marie had dove from the trebuchet as the dragon passed overhead, destroying the first war machine in a blast of angry red fire. Templars she could handle, but a dragon? 

Cheers from the inquisition troops quickly turned to panic as part of the dragons path had taken out a section of Haven’s walls, and with the defense broken at the first trebuchet, the red Templars were now getting inside where the non-combatants were.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as the fear gripped hold, Marie turning away from the front lines to turn back to Haven.

“Sparky!” Varric’s voice carried over the chaos, Marie barely paying attention to her companions as she sprinted to save the blacksmith, blasting a red Templar with a ball of writhing light. The dragon made another pass overhead, breathing devastating lines of red dragon fire through the Inquisition’s defenders.

Marie fought her way towards the Chantry, the last standing structure that could maybe hold against that dragon, trying to destroy each Templar that dared stand in her way. With Bull taking the lead, Varric and Dorian taking up the rear as they did what they could to evacuate those who were left, they managed to reach the doors as the Commander hurried the last ones through, Marie turning as the last one in to help him slam those doors shut and bar them.

Marie met the Commander’s eyes as they both held the door, breathing heavy as they both had reached the same conclusion; they had lost. All they could do now was make the bastards work for it.

Chancellor Roderick, the man who had tried to have Marie shackled and shipped off to Val Royeaux for execution, was being helped to the Chantry floor by the young man that had come to warn them, Cole.

“He tried to stop a Templar. The Blade went deep. He’s going to die.” Cole said, forcing Marie to break eye contact with Commander Cullen.

“What a charming boy.” The Chancellor said, delusional from the pain. 

“Herald… our position is not good.” The Commander said as he moved away from the door to stand beside her. “That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.” Cole said as he tended to Roderick.

“I don’t care what it looks like, it’s cut a path for that army.” Cullen snapped. “They’ll kill everyone in Haven.”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village, he only wants the Herald.” Cole responded.

Marie laughed, a weak and more pained sound than she was expecting it to be as she felt tears burn in her eyes. It was the Circle again, it didn’t matter who they had to cut through, how many had to die, just so long as they reached her, Ostwick’s Thunderborn. Except this time, it was a different title, this time they wanted the Herald of Andraste. 

“If ever you wondered what it was like to stand on the receiving end of a Rite of Annulment Commander, this is exactly what it’s like.” She said, trying to wipe some of the blood and grime from her face while fighting back those tears of frustration. “If it will save lives, the bastard can have me.”

“It won’t.” Cole replied. “He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll crush them; kill them anyway. I don’t like him.”

“Don’t like?” Commander Cullen sighed, just as frustrated as Marie felt. “Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchet, cause one last slide.”

He was defiant to the end, Marie thought. 

“To hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven.” Marie said, but she knew his response even before he uttered it.

“We’re dying, but we can decide how… many don’t get that choice.” His voice had dropped in volume with the admission, hearing it aloud making it no less easy to accept. The Commander didn’t deserve to die here, Marie thought. A true Defender of the Just didn’t deserve a death below a mile of snow, forgotten and unmourned.

“Yes, that…” Cole said softly, getting their attention. “Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

“There is a path… you wouldn’t know it unless you’ve made the summer pilgrimage, like I have.” He groaned and painfully got to his feet, holding his stomach wound. “The people can escape… She must have shown me; Andraste must have shown me so I could… tell you…”

It was a moment of hope that filled her as she turned to Commander Cullen. “What are you talking about?” She asked, turning back to the Chancellor.

“It was whim that I walked the path… I did not mean to start, it was overgrown… Now, with so many in the conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers… if this simple memory can help, this could be more than mere accident. You could be more.”

“Cullen, can we make this work?” Marie said, hopeful.

“Possibly. If he shows us the path.”

Marie straightened, gathering her courage as she looked to the closed doors, giving a sigh as she knew that the time had come. “I will buy you as much time as I can, it is the least I can do.”

“What of your escape?” Cullen asked, but Marie only winced as she looked back to him, taking in the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice. She couldn’t find her voice to answer him, her mouth opening but nothing coming out. “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way?”

The Maker was a cruel, fickle creature Marie thought, unable to get the words out as Cole helped Roderick to the back of the Chantry, people beginning to follow them. Commander Cullen must have understood, turning away from her without a word, starting to bark his orders but Marie couldn’t just let it end like that, couldn’t just let him walk away.

She reached out, grasping a hold of his hand. Her delicate fingers only managed to grab two of his, stopping him as he turned just enough to look at her.

“Cullen...” She said, his name coming out too softly. 

“They will load the trebuchets, keep the Elder one’s attention until we’re above the tree line.” The Commander said to her, Marie still holding on to his fingers. “If we are to have a chance; if you are to have a chance… let that thing hear you.”

And with that, he walked away, their hands slipping apart.


	10. To Have Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie survives the slide, struggling through the mountains even as Cullen struggles with his own doubts as to whether or not she would return.

As Cullen ushered the last stragglers out to the back of the Chantry, he found himself looking back at Lady Trevelyan as she leaned against the door, covered in the blood of her enemies. She was gathering what remained of her strength, the currents of magic rippling over her arms as she wrapped the power around herself, into her barrier. Orchestrating her power into an ever climbing crescendo, his blood humming in response to how it called to him, it made his chest ache to think that she was the perfect distraction, the inescapable lure. He could still feel the pressure of her hand on his, the way she had reached out to catch him, even as the words she wanted to say caught in her throat.

Why did everything always go so wrong?

Cullen was pulling the rear doors closed as the Herald pushed the front ones open with a burst of strength, the last image of her lit with the fires of Haven, staff at the ready, to buy the Inquisition the time to escape.   
He barred the door, scowling as he moved down the back paths, forcing the march up the mountainside to make the tree line.

“Commander! Commander, where is Lady Marie?” Enchanter Carver had found his way to the back of the survivors, using his staff to steady himself in the snow.

“We need to get everyone above the tree line, and we don’t have much time.” Cullen said to the Enchanter, not wanting to say what he feared out loud. If he said it, he would start to believe it, and what remained of the Inquisition was depending on him to protect them.

Enchanter Carver met Cullen’s pace far easier than he thought he would, scratching the spot on his head with his free hand. It took him only a moment to realize what the rebel was doing at the back of the line, and doing it without so much as a gesture or an incantation; the snow behind them shifted and smoothed, covering the tracks of a few hundred feet. The surviving mages of Ostwick were a breed unto themselves, Cullen thought, a rare one that was steadily dying out in this blighted war.

It was a desperate climb, led by a dying man, and once at last they were high enough, with Enchanter Carver standing beside him as green and white light flashed in the burning husk of Haven, the mage held his staff high and launched a single, high arcing flare.

“Maker preserve you, fade-child.” Carver said as a peel of thunder rolled through the valley, the trebuchet firing seconds later, and the snow began to slide. Cullen watched the lights die under the avalanche, covering Haven, wiping the valley clean of all signs of life.

All except for that dragon, pulling itself out of the snow after a few moments of silence, screeching defiantly as Cullen and Carver started down the pilgrims path. His chest ached, his arms heavy as he was forced to turn his attention to those who needed it now, to those she had left in his care until she returned.

He hoped with everything in him that she would.

\---------------------------------------------------  
The pain. Maker, she could write her own Chant dedicated to the intensity of that pain.

Marie’s eyes fluttered open, her face pressed against the cold stone of where she had landed as she had made the sprint from the trebuchet. Well, as much as a seriously wounded mana-deprived mage could sprint, but she had done it, and just barely it seemed. Marie had burned through so much of her magic just getting to the trebuchet, that the storm inside was all that she had left to keep her standing when she had to fight to buy the Inquisition forces time.

The roar of the snow slamming down the mountainside, the laugh she had thrown over her shoulder at the creature responsible for the Conclave, the debris that had clipped her thigh as she dove into an exposed tunnel entrance. Marie was amazed that she could still take one painful breath after another.

It felt like an eternity in the pitch black as she pushed her good arm under her, managing to at least roll on to her back as she cradled her left hand to her chest. The pain, like someone was languidly pulling razor blades through her veins, started in that Mark, slicing up every nerve in her arm to radiate through her shoulder and down through her back. There it settled in a cracked rib, several more bruised, with innumerable other superficial burns and cuts that she earned during her stand against Corypheus and his blighted dragon. She wasn’t actively bleeding, that was good, and she cupped her good hand in front of her and concentrated on creating some light, maybe some heat.

The blink of fire started weakly, making her squint into the dark, but Marie struggled through the glare as she looked around where she had ended up. 

It was a tunnel, hewn with the same old stone as the Chantry. It went deeper, but Marie had no idea where it would take her. For all she knew, it could be a dead end, where she would have to make her peace with the Maker.

She spotted her staff, thankfully not too far away, and called it to her with a small spark of electricity, taking the small fire that she had managed to summon and wrapped the flames around the head of it. So long as she could feed it power, the small fire would remain lit, but her reservoir was far from infinite. The feral magic within was depleted, used to kill more Templars in the one battle than she had in the entire Mage-Templar war, and her innate magic was far from recovered. She would have to be sparing with it, and hoped it lasted. 

Another eternity had her crawling to her hands and knees, her right thigh swollen from the debris that had hit her, and hoisted herself onto her feet, leaning heavily on her staff, the lone source of light and heat, and started to chant as she limped forward into the unknown.

“Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.” Marie chanted, the Canticle of Benedictions, for the Templar that stood defiant against the odds. “Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker’s will is written…”

\---------------------------------------------  
Roderick had been right; the pilgrims path took them into the Frostback Mountains and safely away from Haven. Now the remainder of the Inquisition was stranded in the storm that had started when they had all celebrated in Haven, and there was nowhere to go but forward, to put as much distance between the Red Templars and the survivors as possible.

Enchanter Carver had kept him quiet company, despite the numerous times he told him to go make himself useful elsewhere. Something about the mage and the way he was keeping himself calm seemed strange to Cullen, the way the man’s hands shook less than usual, the way he scratched at that odd bald patch in his head. 

“Maker’s breath, isn’t there something you can do other than bother me?” Cullen scowled, trying to scare the man away. But Carver smiled as he scratched his head, his sharp eyes glancing around him.

“Like what? March up there as opposed to back here? Do you think I am some sort of fool?” He said sarcastically. “If Lady Marie made it out of Haven, she won’t be near the front. She’ll come the same way we came. So here I will remain. You can go march in the front.” 

No, Cullen didn’t want to march in the front. He was still in the back for the same reason as Enchanter Carver, hoping that the Herald would come up over the ridge. Cassandra and Leliana could navigate the mountain valleys better than he could, which was the truth, so he would stay in the rear.

It was almost dawn when the word to break camp reached the rear guard, many of the survivors wounded and in need of medical attention and rest. When Leliana sent a messenger to retrieve him, to plan out their next move no doubt, Cullen could only brace himself for the questions, for the arguments that would follow.

\-------------------------------  
Marie almost fell to her knees in relief when the light of an exit illuminated the tunnel ahead, which then filled with flurries of snow and the howl of the storm in the mountains. 

She had to stop and rest in the mouth of the tunnel, knowing full well that there might be no sign of shelter from here on out. Her injuries were substantial, but could turn fatal if she were exposed and unprepared in that storm.

So she took the time to gather some strength, casting her barrier, but she had to have more than just protection; she needed warmth, and her tattered enchanter’s coat was not enough for a high altitude blizzard. Marie hoped she would be able to maintain it as she gathered the energy again to make fire, fumbling mentally to weave it into her barrier, the pain shivering through her body as the magic failed to work. 

The barrier would at least protect her from the wind, she thought, grasping her staff as best she could as she dragged her flagging body out into the storm. With one arm useless, one leg dragging through the snow, Marie pushed forward as she searched for any signs of the Inquisitions survivors.

\---------------------------------------------------  
The day crept past, the sun rising and falling, and still no sign of the Herald. The storm had blown out by late in the afternoon, and many of the wounded had now been tended. 

Which left the question; what now?

With no sign of Lady Trevelyan, it was so easy for things to fall apart. Uncertainty tainted the air even as Cullen argued with the other Inquisition advisors, the survivors watching and slowly things began to unravel. Lady Trevelyan had held them together more than had he thought, their fierce rebel queen, and now with her gone…

He had stormed away again as night fell, the inability to reach a general consensus wearing on what was left of the brittle optimism of a natural pessimist. She had willingly volunteered to be their decoy, even as her voice caught in her throat. The memory of how her hand had gripped his was imprinted into the very grain of his memory, the blood that had caked in her hair, her coat, her face, the uncertainty he had seen in those intense hunter eyes before she had clad herself in the armor of her indomitable resolve. 

Lady Trevelyan had protected them all as she had protected the mages of the Rebellion, putting the lives of the entire Inquisition before her own, even when not even an hour before she had made her intention to leave known. Cullen admired that about her, found a kindred spirit in her even as they had fought each other from opposite sides of the war table.

“Commander.” It was an acknowledgement of his presence, Cullen brought out of his brooding thoughts to realize he was standing at the southernmost part of the camp. He was surprised to see that there were three mages settled together at a lone fire; Dorian, Solas, and Enchanter Carver, all watching him as he had wandered into their camp.

“Though our numbers are small, those who come to join my watch are welcome.” Enchanter Carver said, scratching his head even as he looked to the ridge to the south. 

“If only all mages were as steadfast in their faith as those from Ostwick.” Cullen said to Carver, feeling as though his own had wavered in the face of recent events. 

“It isn’t faith in what you think that sustains me, Commander. My faith lies with Lady Marie.” Carver retorted, almost derisively. “’Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker’s will is written.’ At least, that is what she would like me to say.”

“If all mages were like these stubborn Free Marchers, they would have won the war years ago.” Dorian quipped. 

“Wait…” Carver’s voice stopped them from continuing, the Enchanter holding up a shaky hand as he squinted into the darkness. They had all stood as they waited, watching the Enchanter, as a small flicker of light crested the southern ridge.

\-------------------------------------------------  
Marie could barely feel her skin as she dragged her injured leg through the high snows, stumbling on numb limbs and thankful for that numbness. It was a different, more tolerable pain, but in that tolerance came the danger of what that lack of feeling meant.

She couldn’t think about that, not when she still had more distance to cover, only finding a few traces of the Inquisitions survivors. What traces that had been left of course; there was only one surviving mage that knew how to cover their tracks so effectively, and would know that she would look for the remains of such magic.

The fire on her staff flickered, threatening to go out. Marie didn’t have much left in her, maybe a few hours at most, and then she was sure the cold would claim her, wrap her in a blanket of snow, pull her into the darkness of the fade to never wake again.  
She stumbled as she finally crested that next ridge, finding that, try as she might, her legs wouldn’t obey her, the staff wasn’t enough to keep her feet under her, the fingers of her good hand failing. She could feel her breathing slow as she sank into the snow, sliding back a few feet from where she had come.

So maybe not a few hours, she thought as she allowed the cold to embrace her. Perhaps her part in this was finally done, and she could close her eyes to rest. 

“Draw your last breath, Marie.” She said to herself as the shadows came down upon her. “Let mine be the last sacrifice, please…” She heard his voice, the rare laughter she coveted despite their animosity, playing like a song in her head even before she heard the words.

“Not yet, my lady.” Hands, warm strong hands gripped her and dragged her from her bed of cold. Puffs of fire gave her warmth as someone wrapped a heavy cloak around her.

Why so much shouting, she asked herself. All she wanted was to sleep.

A spike of pain shattered her icy serenity as she was lifted into someone’s arms, her cracked ribs setting her chest on fire, Marie grabbing on to cold metal as she cried out.

“Hold on sweetheart, we’ve got you!” That was Dorian’s voice.

“We’ve found the Herald!” She felt the rumble of Cullen’s voice just as clearly as she heard it.

“Thank the Maker!” 

It was all she could make out before the darkness pulled her in, silencing the noise and the pain.


	11. Where Hatred Cannot Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen stands vigil over Marie as she sleeps, and Marie dreams of what was.  
> She also admits that, despite her hatred, she can't hate him.

If Enchanter Carver hadn’t been so diligent, they would never have known that she almost didn’t make it. After sprinting up the slope with Dorian, Solas, and Carver, they had found her just on the other side; half buried beneath the snow, and unmoving.

“Draw your last breath Marie… let mine be the last sacrifice… please…”

Only when he heard her soft voice did he charge over the ridge.

“Not yet, my lady.” Cullen had said hoarsely as he grabbed her by the coat to pull her out from beneath the drift, Carver immediately using puffs of fire from his hands to warm her, but she went limp in his arms, hardly breathing.

Yanking off his fur cloak, he wrapped her in it, Solas moving in beside him and putting a hand to her throat. His grim look only spurred Cullen to scoop her up into his arms.

Lady Trevelyan cried out then, one hand gripping onto his chest plate as her body started to shake.

“Hold on sweetheart, we’ve got you!” Dorian said, making Cullen’s chest ache, but now was not the time for that. Now he had to get her down the hill and into the immediate care of the healers.

Cassandra had met him halfway up the slope as he tried to hurry her down, declaring that they had found the Herald, but he was fearful that the Maker might heed her prayer, might stop her breathing to take her away.

Cullen had carried her all the way to the healer’s tent, carefully depositing her on one of the empty cots as all free hands descended upon her, pushing him out of the way even before he was done letting her go.

Which left him to pace. 

He had let her face the Red Templars on her own, and this was the end result… yes, she had returned alive as he so fervently prayed for, but at what cost? Every once in a while, he could hear her whimper or cry out, the healers scrambling frantically in and out.

“Commander, the Herald is stable.” One of the healers emerged from the tent after an eternity, the head medic that survived Haven. 

“Is she awake?” Cullen asked, flinching as he realized how harsh he sounded.

“No, and I don’t expect her to wake for some time.” The healer answered. 

“What is the extent of her injuries?” It was Leliana, the spymaster, walking over to the healer as the woman sighed. She had been waiting at a distance, wisely leaving him to his pacing.

“It’s… I don’t know how she made it this far on her own, Sister Leliana.” The healer said, her face ashen. “Maker preserve her, she marched a whole day in that condition…”

While the healer spoke to Leliana, Cullen slipped inside of the tent, finding that they had moved her further in. There were still others cleaning up, basins of bloody water and bandages being carried away to be discarded or cleaned. 

Settled in a cot lined with furs and blankets, wrapped in bandages and smelling of salves and poultices, was Lady Trevelyan. Her cheeks were flushed red, Cullen watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as he quietly approached her sleeping form, afraid that he would wake her and earn the wrath of the healers that were still around. Cullen moved a chair next to her cot, sitting down gingerly as she sighed in her sleep, her fine brow furrowing as she shifted ever so slightly. Her hand, slight and delicate, wrapped in gauze and balanced precariously on the edge of the cot, caught his attention. Cullen still had the feel of those fingers in his mind, could still feel the strength that had gripped his before he had pulled away. Gently, hesitantly, he took her hand in his own, his large gloved fingers enveloping hers easily and completely. 

“This moment looks like it should be in one of Varric’s serials.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he sat up sharply, releasing her hand hurriedly. Dorian had sauntered in, must have seen Cullen hesitantly take Lady Trevelyan’s hand while she slept, and he couldn’t stop his face from heating up even as his chest clenched tight.

“Not now, Dorian.” Cullen snarled, trying not to let his voice rise to loud, he didn’t wish to wake her.

“Fine, fine… I’ll let you have the first watch then.” The Tevinter mage said with a wave of his hand. “I will warn you though, you may need a bucket.”  
Cullen blanched; he didn’t want to know why he would need a bucket.

“I’m morbidly curious as to what you thought you would need that bucket for Commander, but I assure you, it’s nothing that interesting.” Dorian chided as he saw the look on Cullen’s face. “Marie has a decidedly weak stomach, I’ve already warned the healers so they don’t panic.”

Dorian didn’t say anything further, sauntering out of the medical tent and leaving the Commander with the Herald. Contrary to what he thought the mage would do. He expected the Tevinter to challenge his presence.

Maybe he understood more than he gave him credit for, Cullen thought as he relaxed, looking to Lady Trevelyan again. Cullen had to live with his decision, that he allowed this to happen, and perhaps standing vigil over her while she slept would help alleviate some of the guilt that coiled in his gut.

\----------------------------------  
 _Marie dreamed._

_A pretty young girl, dressed in a powder blue pinafore, pockets full of seeds, bounced through the secular gardens that surrounded Ostwick’s Circle of Magi._

_Behind her was a man close to retirement, with his dark hair peppered with silver, the great uncle of the frolicking little girl with the lovely chocolate hair and striking green eyes. His nephew, the sitting Lord Trevelyan, had given him permission to bring Marie to see her favorite uncle, his other nephew Godwin, the First Enchanter of Ostwick’s Circle. Marie would beg with her beautiful eyes, batting her lashes until he would give in, and she would stuff her pockets full of seeds to bring to Uncle Godwin. Uncle Edward would pretend he didn’t notice her smuggled cargo, so long as she could smile._

_She was just nine, already starting the transition from bright child to young lady, with her future completely laid out for her; a marriage had been arranged for her as soon as she had turned five, etiquette lessons since she was old enough to stand, her education carefully comprised of everything she would need to be a force in the aristocracy. Although Marie was not as steadfast in her faith as other members of the family, she could sing just as well as any revered mother._

_But she was still a girl, and Uncle Edward liked to see their butterfly free of her gilded cage._

_It was that day when she had bounced happily into her Uncle Godwin’s arms, all smiles and laughter, when she had reached into her pockets to pull out some of her smuggled seeds. Uncle Godwin had the trademark Trevelyan hair, dark like Orlesian mahogany, cropped short like his beard._

_“Alright Butterfly, what did you bring this time?” Godwin had said as she held them out to him, Marie daintily placing some of the seeds into his waiting palm._

_“Mother called them stargazers.” Marie said as they both sat on a bench in the garden, only a few Templars in view from where they were._

_With the gentle coaxing of his fingers, more for theatrical effect than necessity, the seeds began to sprout in his hands, the buds forming before the petals, stargazer lilies blooming bright pink and white. He gathered the flowers in his hands and presented them to her like a bouquet._

_Marie laughed, a sound that chimed like the bells of the Chantry, and pulled some more seeds from her pinafore. The sound of that laughter pulled the attention of every ear within range, even some of the Templars on duty smiling for Marie._

_“You want me to do more?” Godwin laughed._

_“No, Uncle Godwin.” She said with a sly smile. Holding out her hands, sticking out her tongue in concentration, stirring something strong, feral, magical.  
With a spark of light, Lady Marie changed her carefully planned future, shattering and reshaping her destiny as she pouted at a handful of burned flower seeds. ___

__\----------------------------------  
The first thing Marie saw was canvas, hanging over her head; the roof of a tent._ _

__The second thing was the pain._ _

__Her skin felt raw, red and itchy, her ribs ached like she had been kicked in the chest by a horse. Her right leg was bandaged heavily from her knee to her thigh, and she could smell the elfroot and spindleweed of the poultices that were patched all over her body. But thank the Maker, the pain was not what it had been.  
Then through the medicinal haze, like someone had slammed a window shut to scare her, she remembered what happened in Haven. The screams, the fire, the smell of burning flesh, the stench of gore on her skin, on her clothes, in her hair. The horror of what Corypheus was, what he had done; what she had done… Marie’s stomach turned._ _

__And sitting bolt upright, the nausea winning over the pain, someone had a bucket and was handing it to her just as her stomach shuddered. Not that there was much of anything in her, but she hissed through the pain as her stomach emptied what little had been in it._ _

__“Maker preserve me…” She whimpered, aching all over, burning, searing, pins and needles._ _

__“Dorian was right then.” She knew that voice, could pick it out of a crowd of thousands._ _

__“Commander…” Marie started, holding that bucket to her like a shield despite the pain it caused her._ _

__“The survivors are safe,” The Commander said, cutting her off before she could start asking questions, needing the answers even as her body shivered from pain and mana deprivation. “What you need to do now is rest.”_ _

__“Cullen, I…” … I’m sorry. Her voice caught in her throat again as the Commander took the bucket from her lap, setting it aside as she continued to shiver from more than the pain and deprivation. It was her fault, all her fault. Marie had pushed them into that corner. The Templars came for her, all because she couldn’t bring herself to side with them because she hated them, despised them, wished every obscene death upon them that she could imagine, and yet it wasn’t enough to sate the hatred that simmered deep in her bones. And Maker forgive her, she reveled in their slaughter, laughed when they ruptured like rotten fruit, seared within their own defenses while she marched unrelenting to the trebuchet, prepared to die if necessary to protect those she had put in danger… just as it had been in Ostwick._ _

__Except it was a defiant Templar she had defied death for, the one she couldn’t bring herself to hate because… because… Marie felt sick again even as her heart stampeded through her chest, her eyes burning. She couldn’t have been more thankful of her mana deprivation in that moment of weakness, or the storm would have ripped what was left of the area apart._ _

__“You must hate me.” Marie grumbled, turning her gaze away from him, clenching her teeth so hard her face hurt. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Marie needed him to hate her, she felt she deserved nothing less._ _

__“Why must I hate you?” The Commander asked, a touch of defensiveness in his tone. “You protected the Inquisition, secured the survival of our cause-”_ _

__“Because I hate Templars.” She sniffed, the tears slipping free even as she tried to keep them in. “I’ve killed dozens, slaughtered them like putrid livestock, left them to rot in Therinfall because I couldn’t find it in me to show them any more mercy than they’ve shown mine… and look what it’s done. So many are dead…”_ _

__“It’s drawn out the perpetrator behind the Conclave.” Commander Cullen responded, his face furrowed in disagreement. “And those things were not Templars, not anymore. Templars are meant to protect, not slaughter innocents. What you did to them was more than justified, so feel free to hate them to your heart’s content.”  
Commander Cullen stood, gathering his cloak in his hands before throwing it around his shoulders, his furry mantle making him look larger as he looked down at Marie. _ _

__“Commander… I’m sorry.” She said quietly as she looked up at him, standing over her, making her feel small and insignificant. “For whatever little it is worth, I can’t find it in me to hate you.”_ _

__“As I can’t find it in me to hate you.” He replied quietly, turning and walking away from her._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you all again for the comments!  
> Slipping in some tidbits about Marie's past, might be slipping in some more later... ^w^


	12. Stand Strong, Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie becomes the Inquisitor. Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed.

The story was hard to hear, especially when Lady Trevelyan had all her formidable defenses and Chanter’s serenity in place, still covered in bandages and poultices, walking with a significant limp. But despite her injuries, the great pain she was in, she delivered her tale clearly, although despondently. It was no wonder that she was in such a state when she had woken up.

Cullen had argued with the others for hours after Lady Trevelyan had gone back to rest, again fighting to reach a decision and failing miserably. He felt as though he was the only one who was trying, that the others were dancing around the fact that they no longer had anywhere to go.

Then the song rose out of the night, resounding and full of the faith that the Inquisitions survivors had in their Herald, their Maker. They had born witness to yet another miracle, the Herald of Andraste standing alone against an impossible enemy, a creature from Chantry cautionary tales, had fallen… and returned.

Cullen had added his voice to the throng, holding on to his frayed faith, letting the song soothe his troubled heart.

_You must hate me._ She had said it with such self-loathing he wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him or herself. _I’m sorry,_ she had said. It was a different woman than the one who stood proud and resilient against all odds, the one who woke in the tent was damaged if not outright broken, and was made that way no doubt by Templars. _If ever you wondered what it was like to stand on the receiving end of a Rite of Annulment Commander, this is exactly what it’s like._

______“Commander,” He was brought out of his reverie by Lady Trevelyan’s voice, the tone distant, her sharp hunter eyes watching him cautiously. Her hands were folded in front of her, her hair braided down her back and draped over one shoulder. Solas stood beside her, looking grim, but that didn’t seem to phase her. “Please gather the other advisors, I have a plan.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______\-----------------------------------  
Marie kept it brief, telling Leliana to send scouts to the north, to look for the structure that Solas informed her of, a place where the Inquisition could thrive and grow. She avoided speaking to the Commander as much as possible, feeling ashamed that she had let him see her like that. He saw her hatred, her weakness, and worst of all she told him that she couldn’t hate him, even if she wouldn’t dare breathe a word as to why._ _ _ _ _ _

______And he didn’t hate her. How could he not?_ _ _ _ _ _

______She couldn’t think about it as the Inquisition marched north, letting the pain drive her forward, refusing the aid of anyone who offered it. Right now they still depended on her, whether or not their faith was misplaced, and she owed it to the survivors to at least secure them what safety she could._ _ _ _ _ _

______When she had finally laid eyes on the structure, Skyhold, it took her breath away._ _ _ _ _ _

______“How has this place gone unnoticed?” She asked Solas, who had been beside her every step of the way through the mountains._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It is a place that waits for a force to hold it.” Solas answered her as others saw the stronghold, praises to the Maker rising into the mountain air as the Inquisition’s forces moved towards Skyhold._ _ _ _ _ _

______Marie would have to ask more questions later as she picked her way down the mountain paths towards that castle, using her copper cored staff to support her weak leg, leading the way._ _ _ _ _ _

______The castle itself was in shambles, but strong, with thick walls and high battlements and curled upon the mountaintop like a majestic High Dragon. From just the stretch of the bridge she could see for miles around, a grand and highly defensible location with even a paltry force. Marie could feel magic in those stones as her staff tapped against them, pulsing quiet through the soles of her feet, a soft song that prickled at her fade-touched heart like the distant peels of chantry bells. Trembling aspens robed in their fall colors grew within the safe confines of the courtyard, several structures standing against the high mountain extremes, draped in ivies and ambitious saplings._ _ _ _ _ _

______Marie stood in the courtyard as the survivors of the Inquisition filtered in, leading horses and packed brontos into the safety of Skyhold’s reaching walls. Commander Cullen was inside and barking orders almost immediately, ordering what able troops they had to secure the castle, passing by her as she leaned against her staff in the courtyard._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Commander!” She called out to him, the former Templar turning to look at her with his honey-hued eyes, his hand balanced on the pommel of his sword. Just him looking at her made her uncomfortable, her heart rattling around in her chest as she took a controlled breath, listening to the chant in her mind to keep the storm quiet. “Have the Enchanters sweep the structure as your troops secure it. I don’t want any surprises to spring up from beneath our feet.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I agree.” Was his only reply, bowing his head slightly as he adjusted his commands._ _ _ _ _ _

______Marie breathed slowly, making small white puffs in the air as she limped towards the stairs that climbed into what looked to be the main part of the castle. She barely made it to the doors, stopping to sit and rest just above the second courtyard, breathing heavily as at last she could stop moving forward._ _ _ _ _ _

______The Inquisition soldiers and workers simply moved around her, bowing their heads as they passed, whispering thanks and praises. And Marie tuned them out as she closed her eyes and chanted._ _ _ _ _ _

______“There was no word, for Heaven or for Earth, for sea or sky, all that existed was silence…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______\----------------------------  
Although she looked half asleep, her hair tumbled about her shoulders, leaning against her staff on the stairs, her voice carried through the courtyard, echoeing softly off the walls as the survivors secured the castle._ _ _ _ _ _

______“… Then the voice of the Maker rang out, the first Word, and his voice became all that might be...”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Cullen wondered if she realized that her lilting voice bolstered the faithful, her determination and ferocity in the face of adversity armored them with hope. Looking around, seeing the eyes drifting to her, their lips moving with her as she absently chanted, he knew they would follow her into oblivion if she asked. And Maker preserve him, he would follow her too._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Even unable to move she inspires.” It was Cassandra, her eyes watching the Herald before looking to him, Cullen trying to hide the smile that had crept onto his face._ _ _ _ _ _

______“She inspires us all.” Cullen said, hardly aware of the endearment in his voice as Cassandra smiled back at him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“The Inquisition needs a leader. I believe that we have found our answer.” Cassandra said in her no-nonsense tone, and Cullen couldn’t help but agree with her. Every step of the way she supported their cause, fought with the ferocity of a lioness to protect and defend, and placed the lives of the Inquisition before her own._ _ _ _ _ _

______Would the rebel queen accept it though?_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Let me speak with Enchanter Carver, you talk to Leliana.”Cullen said as he strode off to find the Ostwick mage, knowing that if anyone could convince her, it would be Carver._ _ _ _ _ _

______\-----------------------------------------------  
Thankfully Marie was left alone for the rest of the day, allowed to rest even on the steps the Skyhold until Dorian came to collect her. He didn’t offer her help, she didn’t want it, but he brought her to the tent that would be her shelter for the night. It was in the second courtyard, just outside of one of the battered buildings, and not too far from many of the others as the Inquisition survivors continued to secure Skyhold._ _ _ _ _ _

______When she woke the next morning, the sun highlighted the canvas as she slowly crawled out of her cot, she noticed that there was a lot more noise outside than she was expecting._ _ _ _ _ _

______Grasping her copper cored staff, collecting herself as she always did upon waking up, Marie stepped into the bright morning light, and was surprised to see the number of people in the courtyard._ _ _ _ _ _

______Standing together in a group was Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and the Commander. It was Cassandra who motioned her to come over, the three advisors moving away, but Marie hadn’t missed their smiles. The Seeker gestured broadly to the people clustered in the courtyard, gathering her attention even as she coveted one of Cullen’s rare smiles._ _ _ _ _ _

______“They’ve been arriving since dawn from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is already becoming a pilgrimage.” Cassandra turned, motioning for her to follow her up the stairs. With some difficulty and the aid of her staff, Marie followed. “If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here. But this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Cassandra continued to climb the stairs, Marie spotting Carver as she followed the Seeker._ _ _ _ _ _

______“But we now know what allowed you to stand against Coypheus; what drew him to you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“The mark.” Marie said cautiously, unsure of what was happening as Carver fell into step beside her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It is useless to him now, and so he wants you dead… and at the same time it is not why you are still standing, Lady Marie.” Enchanter Carver said, matching his stride to her staggered limp._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature’s rival because of what you did, and we know it. All of us.” Cassandra said as Marie’s stomach started to twist._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Carver, what is going on here?” Marie asked sharply as she looked to the Enchanter, but the mage placed a shaky hand on her shoulder as he smiled._ _ _ _ _ _

______“My lady, the Inquisition requires a leader.” He said, continuing up the steps beside her as she spotted Leliana, a grand sword held reverently in her hands._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Carver, I’m no leader; you’re looking for someone like Godwin, or Cassandra, or the Commander… not me! I’m merely a means to an end, a weapon to be guided, I’m-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“-The one who has already been leading it.” Cassandra interjected as Leliana held out that sword. “You.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Lady Marie.” Carver took her by both shoulders, turning her to face him with his proud, fatherly smile. “Have more faith in what you’ve done here, butterfly. Look at these people… not a one of them would be standing here if it weren’t for you. What would Godwin say?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Uncle Godwin. Ostwick’s First Enchanter, lost at the Conclave with the others of her Circle, her family. The people she had raged to defend in the face of annihilation, and won. Just as she had against Corypheus in Haven._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Stand strong, butterfly.” She replied softly. “Be modest in temper, bold in deed.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“That he would.” Carver said as he let his shaking hands drop._ _ _ _ _ _

______Marie looked out over the people amassed, looking up to her, their reverence. She had protected them as she had protected Carver, they had faith in her strength and her determination. Although she was scared that she would fail them, every day she was scared, but they didn’t need her fear, they needed her strength.  
Josephine stood with Commander Cullen in the crowd below, looking up to her, her heart pounding in her chest as he smiled his rare smile at her. She turned back to Cassandra and Leliana, leaning on her staff for support._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Cassandra, you want a mage as the head of the Inquisition?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Not a mage. You.” Cassandra said with such conviction that it startled her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I happen to be a mage.” Marie said cautiously._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I will not pretend that no one will object, but times are changing.” She gestured to the sword again. Carver gently grabbed her staff, Marie letting it go as she approached that blade with her limp, so much like the Chantry ordained blades she had faced in battle. “Perhaps this is what the Maker intended… there would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead, that must be yours to decide.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Stand strong, butterfly.” Marie whispered to herself as she hesitantly grasped the hilt with her good hand, taking it from Leliana’s outstretched hands. It was heavy, like the weapon itself embodied the responsibility she was taking onto her shoulders, into her delicate hands._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Have the people been told?” Cassandra called out._ _ _ _ _ _

______“They have, and soon the world.” Josephine responded down below._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Commander, will they follow?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Inquisition, will you follow?” His voice carried sharply through the courtyard as the people cheered, making Marie’s heart pound even harder as small sparks jumped between her fingers, rippling from her hand and along the blade of the Inquisitor’s sword. “Will you fight?” The people roared louder. “Will we triumph?”  
The cheers of the faithful were near deafening, their arms and weapons raised, Cullen drawing his sword as he turned and raised it to her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Your leader, your Herald, your Inquisitor!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Looking around she saw others in the crowd, Varric and Dorian, Bull and his Chargers, Blackwall and Vivienne. There was Sera and Cole, all the way in the back, but they were there, supporting her._ _ _ _ _ _

______Marie lifted the sword high, accepting the role they needed of her, hoping that she had it in her to do it._ _ _ _ _ _

______Maker, she hoped._ _ _ _ _ _


	13. The Struggle Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They twist against themselves, Marie still struggling to break past what he was and Cullen fighting through his lyrium withdrawal. Dorian issues a strange challenge to the Commander of the Inquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is later than I anticipated!

Cullen orchestrated the repairs to Skyhold as Lady Trevelyan was allowed to recover from her ordeal in peace; or at least as much peace as the Inquisition allowed their new Inquisitor peace. Josephine and Leliana had discovered a room in the tower above the grand hall, the most secure and highest room in Skyhold, and had declared it Lady Trevelyan’s. 

The Inquisitor’s healing was paramount to anything else, he would see to that himself even if he had to stand guard at that door himself. And by the Maker, he wouldn’t let what happened at Haven happen here, not while he still had his wits about him.

With the influx of pilgrims and refugees, recruits filtering in from both Ferelden and Orlais, he had no shortage of hands to make Skyhold the fortress he wanted it to be. 

It had been a week since he had actually seen her, keeping himself more than busy with the castle, but he would be a fool if he didn’t know the moment she had stepped out into the grand hall. It started as hushed whispers, eyes turning toward the doors of the castle, paces slowed and lips moved in praise to the Maker. It was as though others could suddenly feel her inescapable presence, the pull she had on him.

“Good morning, Commander.” He had to fight the grin that threatened to slip out as she approached him, clearing his throat before he hoped she would notice. It wouldn’t do to have her Commander grinning at her like some foolish farm boy because he thought she was pretty.

He turned to look at her from the table of plans and schematics, finding those intense hunter eyes on him, her hands folded in front of her as they almost always were, her serene Chanter’s stride not marred by the limp she had carried before. Her alabaster skin practically glowed in the sunlight, her dark chocolate hair coifed expertly on her head with a sandalwood comb and unadorned hair pins. 

“Good Morning, Inquisitor.” He replied. “Guard rotations have been established, and work on Skyhold is underway. If Corypheus were to attack again, we must be ready. Everything should be on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor.” Her fine brows came together, her hands shifting to wring her fingers nervously.

“How many were lost?” She asked. Although her intense eyes were on him, they were looking at somewhere else.

“Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could have been worse.” Cullen placed a hand to balance on his sword. “Moral was low, but it has greatly improved since you took the role of Inquisitor.”

“Inquisitor Trevelyan…” She said it, rolling the title on her tongue, tasting it as her vision returned from where it had been. “I wasn’t looking for another title, I’ve had more than enough of those. It sounds… odd to me.”

“Not at all.” Cullen said, and he watched the corner of her soft lips turn up, a hint of a smile heralding a witty retort.

“Is that the official response, Commander?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, her small smile growing just a bit larger in response. “I suppose it is, but it is the truth. We needed a leader, and you’ve proven yourself.”

Lady Trevelyan’s smiled faded a moment later as her eyes changed focus, staring down at her hands as she wrung her delicate fingers.

“Thank you Cullen, but I do owe you an apology. What I said in the mountains was… selfish and inconsiderate, and not your burden to bare. The escape from Haven was close, and I should have been relieved that you… that so many made it out.” There it was, cracks in her façade, hints of that broken woman that had been gently pieced back together and fiercely hidden away. And that she awkwardly corrected herself to include the Inquisition and not just him… 

“As am I.” Was all he could find in him to say, the urge inside of him growing to protect her, Dorian be damned. She turned away from him then, still looking down, starting to walk away as he found the words he wanted to say to her. “You stayed behind. I couldn’t… I will not allow the events of Haven to happen again. You have my word.”

Tiny arcs of light flickered between the buttons of her jacket, Lady Trevelyan taking a steadying breath as she looked back at him, her fingers soft again as she must have realized how badly she was abusing them.

“That wasn’t accepting my apology.” She said sheepishly.

“There is nothing for you to apologize for.” He replied. 

Silence stretched between them as she looked down at her hands again, her fine brow pulled together as she pursed her lips. As though she couldn’t find anything to say to that, she turned and walked away towards the castle.

\----------------------------------------  
There was the time left alone in that room above the great hall, with nothing to think about but the Inquisition and, well, him… there were a couple of times where she had been caught out on the balcony, just watching him down there on the training field, wondering things she shouldn’t’ve been wondering about before the healer stuffed her back into bed. 

It was like being a girl in the Circle again, having her own far-fetched little fantasy about the handsome Templar that would never happen. Couldn’t happen. Shouldn’t. 

Marie had ridden out that very same day, needing to get some distance between her and her Templar Commander under the real guise of their cause. Maker his laugh made her blood sing more than the storm in her heart did, and Marie could only squirm in sparking frustration, trying to get him out of her head and failing quite spectacularly. 

So she had brought Dorian, Varric, and Bull with her to Crestwood, to clear out the local rifts and gather information on the wardens that were turning up missing across Orlais. It also gave her time to clear her head, even if she had inadvertently taken the three most observant members of her inner circle to watch her work through her frustrations.

She thought three weeks was enough time for her to be gone and away, but when they came riding over the bridge, horses thundering through the lower courtyard, she found herself looking for him and became disappointed that he wasn’t in the courtyard or over with the recruits.

“Can’t find Curly?”

Varric’s voice triggered the nervous spark, her heart already hammering away in her chest with reckless abandon, the deafening snap of potent electricity connecting with the metal bands in one of the traders wagons, the wood connected to it sundering and showering splinters everywhere.

There was an awkward silence as those who had dove for cover looked around, Marie trying to remain composed even though she was mortified that that much power slipped out in a moment of awkward surprise.

“I’ll take those five sovereigns anytime Sparkler.”

Marie whipped around to glare at the dwarf.

“I would have thought you would have lasted longer sweetheart.” Dorian sighed dramatically, making her cheeks burn as she bristled indignantly. 

“Why do you think I didn’t take that bet?” Bull chimed in, Marie quietly fuming as things continued to escalate. “She was ready to go off before we even got over the bridge.”

“I can’t believe you assholes!” Marie snapped, drawing her inner walls in tight to keep any more power from leaking out and shattering something else.   
People from inside the castle started to filter out to investigate the noise, Marie trying to make her escape before she blasted something else into tiny splinters.   
“These truths the Maker has revealed to me: As there is but one world, one life, one death, there is but one god, and He is our Maker.” Marie chanted harshly, stomping through the grand hall to pass by the throne that hadn’t been there before, slamming her door open and grumbling the chant as she climbed the stairs.

At the top she slammed the door again behind her, bolting it hard enough o bruise her hand, feeling more embarrassed than angry at the audacity of her companions. What if she had hit someone? What if Cullen had seen that her inner circle was making bets at her reaction to… to…

She groaned, clenching her fists as the light webbed between her fingers, Marie trying to pull the charge inward to safely dissipate. She must have been quite the fool to think that they wouldn’t notice. Maker, Varric knew. She hadn’t verbalized it to Dorian, but he wasn’t an idiot, he knew. And Bull? He was Ben’Hassrath.   
Marie took her staff and tossed it, the copper cored shaft clattering across the stone floor loudly.

There was a knock on her door, making her jump, little arcs of light bouncing between her buttons.

“Go away!” She shouted, flopping down on her bed. “I will not be made a spectacle of for the profit of assholes!”

“Inquisitor, I was sent to make sure that you were alright. Master Pavus said that you caused the wagon damage in the courtyard.” The voice of a messenger, probably sent by one of her advisors.

“Maker’s breath… I’m fine!” She said, sighing as she rolled out of her bed. She trudged down to the door, sliding the bolt open and opening the door to see that he wasn’t the only one standing out there.

Several soldiers and other messengers were lined up just behind the first one, looking up the stairs at her as she peeked through the door. They must have drawn straws to see who got to knock on the Inquisitors door, she thought, sighing again.

“I would ask that any of you with reports give them to me in an hour, I wish to settle in before getting straight to work. If any of you are reporting to Josephine, Leliana, or the Commander, tell them I’ll meet them in the war room this afternoon.”

She gave them a small smile, trying to give them her best impression of “fine,” and gently, painfully, closed the door again. Hopefully it bought her an hour, at least to calm herself, get clean, and reinforce the walls of her inner fortress before meeting face-to-face with the source of her trouble. 

\-----------------------------------------  
Cullen had heard the clap of thunder before that familiar pulse of power swept through the castle, through him, softening the ache in his limbs for just a moment before everyone scrambled to see what had just exploded in the courtyard.

The raised voice he couldn’t miss either, as whenever he had heard that familiar lash of anger, it was directed at him. Stepping out of the door to his tower, he looked down below to see the Inquisitor trying to compose herself despite Bull, Varric, and Dorian going on as she sputtered.

“I can’t believe you assholes!” he held in the snort of laughter that threatened to get out as Varric began to laugh; Cullen had overheard the dwarf mention that Lady Trevelyan made swearing sound dignified. Of course he had to keep a straight face as he noticed that an entire wagon had been blasted into splinters and the force of the impact had scattered it all over the courtyard. 

“Go check on the Inquisitor.” Cullen said to the gawking messenger next to him, knowing full well that he shouldn’t try to do it himself. He would quickly become the next target for her anger, and he didn’t want to argue with her so soon after she had returned.

He hadn’t seen her in three weeks, throwing himself into Skyhold’s repairs despite what the lyrium withdrawal was doing to him. His limbs ached, his skin crawled, the nightmares barely allowed him any sleep, and even when the nightmares didn’t set themselves upon him, his mind drifted to her… The dark luster of her chocolate hair, her alabaster skin warm in the candlelight of the Chantry, the soft cadence of her voice as she absently chanted, the weight of her in his arms… his dreams had shown him as much mercy as the nightmares.

The messenger returned almost half an hour later, reporting that the Inquisitor would meet her advisors at the war table that afternoon.

He hadn’t expected Dorian to be following so close at the messengers heels. The mage was still in his travelling clothes, sauntering in with all the Tevinter arrogance that made Cullen wary, not to mention the tightening in his chest at his presence. Dorian crossed his arms over his chest, one hand idly playing with that ridiculous moustache.

“I have a query, Commander. If you don’t mind my intrusion? I promise, it will be worth your time.”

“A query? What do you want, Dorian.” Cullen said, not really willing to cater to the Tevinter.

“As you might have already heard, our Inquisitor is a bit upset with me.” That peaked Cullen’s interest, the Commander standing to balance both hands on the pommel of his sword. He was sure that he would hear about why, as rumors spread through the barracks like a blight, but Dorian seemed entirely too calm for someone that narrowly missed being the scattered mess all over the courtyard.

“Yes, I see that. And?”

“Patience, Commander. Perhaps she is not merely upset with me, but with Varric as well, but I digress… I happened to notice not too long ago that you kept a chess board squirreled away around here. Might I interest you in a game, perhaps in a day or two?” 

"What does that have to do with the Inquisitor being upset with you?" He asked warily. 

"You'll see, if you are willing to take me up on my challenge. Is it necessary that I issue one?"

Cullen couldn't resist the Tevinter's challenge, even if it benefited the smug bastard. He wasn't the finest chess player in Thedas, but he was no novice either. "Fine. Challenge accepted."


	14. Words From Bann Trevelyan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word from Bann Trevelyan puts Marie in a precarious situation as the Advisors discuss the impending arrival of Ostwick's former Knight-Commander, Edward Trevelyan.

Marie did her best to not look at him while she had given her reports to what she had found in Crestwood, as well as answering their questions to the best of her ability. 

“I will be taking forces to claim the keep when I return to Crestwood, to secure a firm foothold and defensible location for our troops.” Marie said as she placed some markers on the map in Ferelden. “There was a small Red Templar scouting party investigating some small elven shrine, but they were dispatched easily enough and their camp searched for information. There were several missives written by Samson found among their possessions that I’m sure could be of some use.”

“Give them to me, I can perhaps learn of his troop movements and we can plan a strike against them directly.” Cullen said, his voice making her heart thrum dangerously fast.

“I’ll have copies made and have the originals sent to you as soon as they are unpacked.” Marie replied. 

“I’ve secured invitations to the Ball at the Winter Palace, where Empress Celene has decided to hold the peace talks with Grand Duke Gaspard and Ambassador Briala.” Josephine said, marking some notations on her board. 

Marie snarled, the three advisors looking at her in surprise. 

She loathed balls. She remembered vividly the seasonal affairs that she was “invited” back to her family’s estate, her wardrobe picked out carefully for her, the long list of expectations for the youngest of HouseTrevelyan. Marie always felt that she was only let out of the Circle to be dusted off and displayed, to dance prettily in her gowns, to hiss charming frivolities through clenched teeth to the noblemen that had the courage to approach the Circle’s young Trevelyan. Father had made it clear on almost every occasion that she had disappointed him, ruined his carefully laid plans for her when she manifested, and would on occasion speak of trading her to some Magister in Tevinter if she didn’t take Godwin’s place as First Enchanter in the Circle.

“Inquisitor, are you alright?” Leliana asked, Marie straightening herself up and folding her hands together.

“I don’t like balls.” Marie replied, straightening herself with a few careful movements of her hands. “I certainly hope you don’t plan to put me in some frilly monstrosity for it. I won’t go.”

Cullen chuckled as Leliana and Josephine looked to one another, the spymaster looking a little disheartened while Josephine looked confused.

“I think we can arrange for something you find satisfactory, Inquisitor.” Josephine said, making a quick note in her board. “What you will be wearing aside, Leliana can give you lessons on how best to play the Game.”

“How long until the ball?” Marie asked, staring down that dreaded marker on the map. It was important, she told herself, she had to do it, she had to save the Empress to stop the future she had seen from happening.

“A few weeks, not too long. It should be enough time to take the keep in Crestwood, but I would suggest you stay here and catch up on matters with the Inquisition.” Leliana said, her hands clasped behind her back. “You’ve made a lot of progress in the field over the past three weeks, but there are matters here than need your attention as well.”

“I will do as much as I can, but taking the keep in Crestwood is important for troop movement. I don’t want the Red Templars to beat us to it.” Marie decided. “Is there anything else that needs to be discussed?”

“I believe that is all for now, Inquisitor.” Cullen said, answering for the three of them.

“Good. To work then.” 

Marie turned on her heel and walked out the monks door, hands clasped in front of her as she settled into a comfortable stride. She would have taken a calming walk around the grounds, reciting her chants to calm the storm and the thoughts that made it twist around inside of her, had Enchanter Carver not been waiting for her on the far side of the grand hall.

She felt her features soften as she spied the man, with his awkward bald spot and shaky hands, his shrewd eyes that smiled at her from his rather plain face. He had something to tell her, she thought, knowing Enchanter Carver all too well; he always resisted touching the spot on his head when something weighed on his mind.

So as Marie approached him she held out her hand in the customary way of requesting his company. Like the gentleman he was, he offered his arm, allowing Marie to slide her hand fluidly into the pocket he had created, and when her fingers touched his arm, his hand met hers. Fatherly, doting, protective. She matched his stride as they left the grand hall, walking casually down the stairs arm-in-arm.

“Lady Inquisitor, there are a few matters that require your attention my dear.” Carver said as she absently patted her hand. 

“Come now Carver, to you I will always be Marie.” She said kindly, receiving a smile from the older mage. He wasn’t much older than herself, roughly ten years, but that hadn’t stopped him from filling in as her guardian when Godwin or Edward weren’t around.

“Lady Marie, my dear. I must never forget that you will always be a lady.” 

“So what do you have for me, Carver?” Marie said, watching him carefully as they moved through the secondary courtyard, nodding to those who bowed or saluted as they passed.

“There are a few things, but first I must ask… was that you in the courtyard this morning?”

Marie pursed her lips as a fresh wave of anger rolled through her. “Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.” She muttered, knowing he would understand.

“I see… I’ve heard from Knight-Commander Edward and Bann Trevelyan.”

Anxiety immediately replaced what anger was in her, her fingers gripping hold of Carver’s arm tightly.

“Maker preserve me, what does he want?” She couldn’t bring her voice above a whisper even if she tried, her immediate reaction to hearing about her father. 

“I’m assuming you ask of your father and not your uncle.” Carver said gently, giving her a reassuring pat of his shaky hand. “What the man always wants; influence. His youngest daughter is now the Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste, not some rebel fighting on the wrong side of the war.”

“His words, I take it?” Marie scoffed.

“You know your father.” Carver sniffed. “Should I tell you that he plans to make a match worthy of you? He’s already started circulating that you are still yet unmarried, and I’d bet my soul that he’s already received some offers.”

“Of course he has, he’s probably promising the world if he can get me to cooperate. He would forget I was ever a mage if it could further him. Doesn’t he understand that there is much more at stake here than his blighted reputation?” 

“And that is why he’s sending Edward. Which brings us to our next problem… your Advisors must be informed.”

“I can inform them that the Knight-Commander of Ostwick is coming, Josephine would throw a fit otherwise.” Marie said, but Carver squeezed her hand hard before she could continue.

“No Marie, they need to know about _this_.” Carver raised a hand to her chest, pressing a finger into her Enchanters coat. “If you don’t tell them, Edward will, and if we allow him to inform them when he does get here, you will lose the trust of those under your command.”

Marie’s heart rumbled in response to his touch, the storm within straining against her inner walls and broken pieces of Self. 

“You understand what you are asking of me Carver?” Marie said softly, pulling her hand away from his as she fought the desire to run and hide, to find the deepest darkest part of Skyhold and lock herself in.

“I’m asking the Inquisitor to place as much faith in those who follow her as they place in her.” Carver said sternly. “If they have half as much as I do, they will protect what you are just as fiercely. You cannot allow incidents like this morning to keep happening, Butterfly.” He reached out for one of her hands, grasping it tightly. “You cannot let Edward leash you again.”

“I will never be leashed like that again, Carver.” Marie replied. 

“Think about it, but don’t delay your decision too long my lady. Edward _is_ coming, he _will_ tell them-”

“I _know_ Carver! Just… give me some time.” She pulled her hand away from him, clasping them together as she picked a direction, any direction, and started the necessary chant to keep her calm and focused. “And as the black clouds came upon them, they looked on what pride had wrought, and despaired…”

When she had thought about this before, she was convinced that the only means for survival, hers and those around her, was to leave. Cullen had fought her fiercely on it when she had told him, and that same evening she nearly gave her life to protect the Inquisition, to protect him from a death unworthy of him. Now… she was the Inquisitor, their leader, their protector. 

She had to tell them, to protect them from herself. 

\---------------------------------  
“I am a little disappointed that the Inquisitor doesn’t like the idea of dressing up.” Leliana grumbled to Josephine, the two of them having been thick as thieves ever since the Grand Duke had sent the invitations. 

“We’re going to the ball to stop an assassination attempt on Empress Celene, not to dress the Inquisitor in frilly monstrosities.” He couldn’t help himself, he had to grin as he said it. Knowing how the bulk of Orlesian nobility dressed, he couldn’t imagine what obscenely ruffly creation they would try to stuff their rebel queen in. 

“Admit it, you want to see her in something other than that coat she hides in.” Josephine gave him a sly smile. 

“I don’t- I mean, there’s more important things to-” 

“From what I hear, the Inquisitor was always the talk of her families soirees.” Leliana said with a wicked grin, Cullen reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he looked away from the conniving women. 

“Maker’s breath, can we talk about something else?” 

“Maybe she will let us do something with her hair?” Leliana continued. Cullen's mind only could bring up how her hair might feel as he ran his fingers through it, or the way it would tumble free and to her hips when the comb was pulled loose, or how his fingers would graze over those hips when freed from those chocolate waves. He hoped the heat that crept up his neck wouldn't reach his face, or they wouldn't leave him be. 

“We could always ask the Knight-Commander what she likes when he gets here, he is set to arrive before the ball.” Josephine replied, flipping through a few pages of her notes to check the information. 

“Knight-Commander?” Cullen asked. He hadn’t realized that any of them had not been at the Conclave. 

“Former Knight-Commander Edward Trevelyan, Bann Trevelyan’s uncle, and the Inquisitor’s great uncle.” Leliana replied. “The Bann says that it's to protect one of his few remaining children, but I believe he's sending the Knight-Commander for another reason." 

Cullen had remembered what Carver had said about the Inquisitor, about her constant Templar guard, her lessons as a Chanter, the way he had warned him to not ask questions about the title the Circle had given her. 

"The Thunderborn of Ostwick." Cullen said as they both nodded. 

Honestly, it didn't really matter to him much anymore. What she had been, what she was, that was before the Inquisition. He would be a hypocrite if he judged her on the things she had done in the past. There was an uncomfortable silence as Josephine pondered something, her dark brows knit together as she used her quill for emphasis. 

"Or the Bann could be sending a chaperone, to keep her from running so he could marry her off." 

Cullen was sure that his heart just stopped as his chest squeezed tight around it, his stomach roiling into knots. 

" _Maker's breath Josie!_ " 


	15. Baiting the Wild and Elusive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian sets up his trap, knowing full well that Marie can't resist the chance to play.

The Skyhold garden was not large, nothing like one would find in the warmer climes or wealthier holdings, but it was a refuge that the Inquisitor had insisted be filled with plants and not just statues of Andraste and burning candles. Almost every corner had some sort of medicinal plant growing in it, the herbalists and healers frequenting the garden to pick all that they needed to ease the strain on the amount of requisitions the cause demanded. When the Inquisitor had been asked how the garden should be rebuilt, Leliana and Josephine had given her the option to make it into an extension of the Chantry, citing many good reasons as to why. It would bring in tithes, donations, be a place of comfort and solace in war, reinforce that the Inquisition was a force that stood in the light of the Maker.

Lady Trevelyan, ever the rebel, had given her idea, and Cullen couldn’t help but be impressed by her counter proposal. Self-sustainability, to be able to have healing herbs on demand should the need arise, and the ability to continue to grow those herbs should things grow dire outside of Skyhold. 

“We have a dedicated Chantry space, one frequented by pilgrims and visiting nobility that happily contribute to the Inquisition.” The Inquisitor had said. “If it is solace and comfort they seek, they can bask in the wonders that the Maker has created, the trees and flowers, all the mysteries and magic of a natural garden. This will also appease any Dalish that come to join the Inquisition without beating the Chant into their heads at every turn of a corner. With patience and perhaps a little bit of luck, we might even draw some scholars from the College of Herbalists to our cause, which will increase our ability to treat and care for the refugees that come here every day.”

Cullen couldn’t deny the simple beauty of it, carrying the wooden box that contained his chess set to the pavilion that was nestled on the far side of the garden. The ghoul’s beard and arbor blessing grew in controlled sections from the roof of the pavilion, elfroot and prophet’s laurel sheltered among wide pots of lavender and honeysuckle flanked either side of the archway. Even from the back of the garden, Cullen could hear the feint echoes of Mother Giselle and some of the Sisters, singing in the Chantry. It eased the ache in his chest, the knots that Josephine and Leliana helped create when discussing the implications of Knight-Commander Edward’s impending arrival.

But he wouldn’t wonder about all that now. He smiled as he opened the box and began setting up the board and pieces, having sent word to Dorian that he finally had time to take the Tevinter up on his challenge. He still failed to see how playing a military commander in a strategy game would get himself back into Lady Trevelyan’s good graces, but Cullen would revel in trouncing the poor fool and wonder how it works in Dorian’s favor later.

“I was beginning to worry that you weren’t going to take up the gauntlet, Commander.” Dorian sauntered through the garden, his sleeveless shirt showing a musculature not typically found on a mage. He tweaked that ridiculous moustache as he smiled at Cullen.

“I could hardly pass up the challenge.” Cullen replied as he sat down, motioning for the mage to sit. 

“Curiosity got the better of you, as I knew it would.” Dorian said with a sly smile, settling into the seat across from him and crossing his legs, steepling his fingers as Cullen made the first move on the board.

The first game went just as expected, but Cullen was surprised at how easygoing Dorian was about losing. He would joke, talk highly of his plan, how Cullen would have to come to terms that he would be beaten and there was nothing he could do about it, moments before he cornered Dorian’s king with his rook and grinned.

The second game went much the same way, Cullen becoming more comfortable with the man and his easy humor. Still, Cullen couldn’t figure out how this was going to benefit the Tevinter, but it became less and less of a concern as they continued their competition.

“Gloat all you like, I have this one.” Cullen remarked after Dorian’s latest tirade about his skill. Dorian was good, but not good enough.

“Are you… sassing me Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Why do I even… I still fail to see how this does you any good.” 

“Commander… a man as smart as you should know the value of patience, especially when trying to snare the wild and elusive.” Dorian said with a twist of his moustache. “I can see you thinking… what evil does the evil Tevinter have planned for our poor innocent Inquisitor? What is it that he had hidden up his sleeve?”

“Considering your lack of sleeves, one would assume that you hide your evil Tevinter plots elsewhere.” The tone of voice wasn’t the least bit friendly, almost hostile, but the owner of the voice had Cullen on his feet in a heartbeat.

“Inquisitor!” 

Lady Trevelyan was striding gracefully towards the pavilion, one hand pressed delicately against her chest while her other arm was wrapped around her middle. Her dark chocolate hair was braided over one shoulder, her intense hunter eyes flickering between the board and Cullen.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.” She said as she climbed the few steps into the pavilion. “I’ve rather enjoyed watching him lose.”

“Don’t get smug, it doesn’t suit you.” Dorian sighed as Cullen carefully sat back down. “The Commander here will have to come to terms with my inevitable victory, you’ll feel much better.”

“Really?” Cullen moved his knight, for the second time claiming checkmate. “Because I just won, and I feel fine!” He leaned back and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Now there will be no living with you.” Dorian chided, and with that the Tevinter stood, giving Cullen a flourish of a bow before sauntering out of the pavilion. Cullen didn’t fail to notice that the Inquisitor didn’t once look at Dorian, even as the mage looked back over his shoulder at her, her intense hunter eyes lingering on the board as she absently chewed her lip in thought. 

“I should return to my duties as well…” Cullen said, moving to gather the pieces to put them away, Dorian’s little game having been played out.

“Prepare the board, Commander.” There was a note of challenge in her voice as she slipped gracefully into Dorian’s abandoned seat, her delicate hands resting on the arms of the stone chair.

“You play?” He asked, Lady Trevelyan shifting uncomfortably as he moved to set the board instead of put it away. Her right hand drifted back up to her chest, slipping inside of her coat to press against her heart.

“Whenever I get the chance.” She said quietly. “Good opponents are in short supply, but I’m sure you already knew that.” 

“That they are.” Cullen replied, making the first move, and was surprised that Lady Trevelyan immediately moved a piece in response. He couldn’t help but smile as she gave a shy smile in return. “Where did you learn to play?”

“Carver taught me in the Circle.” She replied, watching his hand move the piece slowly, deliberately. Her hand was already on her next piece the second he freed his. “Between the tutors and all those pointless studies, he would sneak me in sweets and games. My first chess board was comprised of scraps of paper folded into little figures on a piece of vellum. It took him weeks to sneak it all in without the Enchanter’s noticing.”

Cullen moved his next piece with the same care as the first few, studying her again as she bit her lip and made her move in the span of a heartbeat. If she wasn’t allowed time alone, not even allowed the respite of a simple game, the Inquisitor couldn’t help but make her moves quickly for fear of being caught. Dorian’s words came back to him then; A man as smart as you should know the value of patience, especially when trying to snare the wild and elusive.

Dorian had found her an opponent to make up for his blunder, and judging by how rapt her attention on the game was, he had succeeded in being a worthy one. He did have to give the man credit, he would never have guessed that this was Dorian’s plan. 

“As a child I used to play with my sister before joining the Order. My brother and I used to practice together for weeks to beat her. The look on her face when I finally won…”

“You have siblings?” She asked, her eyes finally leaving the board to look at him. 

“Two sisters and a brother.” He said. “Between my time in the Order and the Inquisition, I really haven’t seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays.”

“I’m the youngest of eight.” She said, waiting patiently for his move. “Godwin used to joke that my father was trying to populate the Ostwick Chantry with Trevelyan’s, since he already had his heir with Martin.”

“You were promised to the Chantry?” 

“Maker’s breath, no! Father had promised me to another, some political garbage.” She laughed even as his chest tightened. It was probably the first real laugh he had ever gotten out of her, like the sound of chantry bells, the smile blooming on her face and lighting up her features like the first rays of morning sun. “He was furious when I manifested, right in front of half the Templars in Ostwick. He said I ruined all his carefully laid plans.”

He made his move, Lady Trevelyan already shuffling her piece into position. Although she wasted not a single moment, she wasn’t a novice by any stretch of the imagination, already having cornered his queen and ready to take the game in the next ten moves.

“This may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the Inquisition, or related matters.” Cullen said as he knew that he was beaten, but he would drag it out as long as he could while she spoke so candidly. “To be honest, I appreciate the distraction.”

“You mean not fighting about the Inquisition or related matters.” She said as her smiled waned a bit, her hand finding its’ way back to her chest, making idle circles over the spot. Her other hand reached for her bishop, her fingers resting on the piece for a few seconds before slowly moving it to take his rook, shyly looking up at him. “Perhaps we can do this again, spend more time together.”

“I… would like that.” Cullen said, trying not to stammer like a witless fool. “We should, uh… finish our game, right? My turn?” There were tiny arcs of light flickering between her buttons as she bit her lip, her eyes focusing again on the board.

The next few moves were unhurried, Lady Trevelyan taking her time to move her pieces into position to box in his king, as he took his time responding with the few moves that she allowed him. She could have easily just swept the board, claiming victory quickly, but it seemed like she was allowing him to put up his fight, to perhaps lessen the damage to his pride. With the knowledge that he would lose, knowing the eventual outcome, he watched the way her fingers grasped the pieces, gentle and soft. He watched her idly bite her lip, making the skin of it brighten pink and full as she let it slide free of her teeth. He watched her chest and shoulders move with the rise and fall of her breathing, the soft sigh of the air escaping her lips making his blood warm to the sounds she might make with those breaths.

“I believe this one is yours, my lady. Well played.” Cullen said as he made his final move, leaning back in his chair as she studied the board, pulling the leash tight on the thoughts that threatened his composure.

Something clouded over her features as her hand paused against her chest, her fingers reaching for the piece but pausing just short of it. The Inquisitor retracted her hand, settling it on the arm of the chair with painful care.

“I have a request of you, Commander.” She said quietly, as if she didn’t wish to be overheard.

“What is it?” He asked, noticing her change in composure. The Inquisitor was turning inward, placing barriers around herself again, the freedom of a simple game no longer holding her captive.

“Tonight I am holding a meeting in the dungeon, only the Advisors and my inner circle have been requested. It is not required of you to show, but… there is something that I need you to see.”

With that she stood and strode away, hands folded before her, her unhurried strides carrying her through the garden. Cullen looked at the board, the move she had yet to finish, the knight that was poised to strike down a king.


	16. Cor Procellam Vis Naturae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie reveals the secret of what she is in preparation of the Knight-Commander's arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!  
> Thank you everyone for the comments, I wish I could convey how much they make me want to continue... because this is looking like it will be a beast of a fic. For an explanation of some of the elements added in this chapter, see the notes at the end.

Marie paced between the cells of the dungeon, the far door open to the gaping maw of the waterfall that ran under Skyhold and out into the open mountain air. Her fingers clutched at her coat, holding it closed as her heart pounded fearfully beneath her fists, her skin prickling from more than just the cold as ripples of energy escaped from her crumbling inner walls, her fortress of shattered Self that restrained the storm. 

How many of them were going to show? Would their eyes change the way the Templars changed, like when Edward explained to the Knights what she was, the power that beat feral within her breast? 

Unnatural, inhuman, dangerous, abomination. Those were usually the first words she would hear when they finally understood, when Edward and Godwin would have her expose them to her storm, the call they couldn’t ignore. 

And then there was Cullen…

Memories of paper pawns and folded rose knights had filled her mind as she sat down to play the Commander. Marie remembered how he carefully moved his pieces, sitting back with that boyish grin even as she swept the board. It took her until almost the end to realize that he already knew he had lost, yet was still playing it through to the end, taking his time, drawing it out. How his voice softened when he spoke to her, still with that rare smile, even though she had a hard time looking at him because she was trying not to blush under his honey-eyed stare. 

Would those eyes turn on her too?

She paced through the open door, her breath making puffs of white as she walked to the furthest cell, sitting down on the stone floor in one of the corners and bringing her knees to her chest. Marie heard when Carver came down the stairs, knowing she was already down there, giving her the sweet solitude of shutting the damn door so that no one would stumble upon her cowering in a corner until she was ready.

Marie would never be ready. She had spent the entirety of her life hiding it, protecting herself, sheltering the marks and scars it left on her body with coats and sleeves and robes. Her fingers still clutched desperately to her coat, unwilling to open. 

“On behalf of Lady Marie, I would like to thank you all for coming at such a late hour.” She heard Carver’s voice echo from the other side of the dungeon door.

“Where’s Sparky?” That was Varric’s voice. 

“She’s nearby, Lord Varric.”

“I almost expected this to be some weird surprise party. She’s not the type to go around asking her friends to secret midnight meetings in the dungeon.”

“The Boss is a bit sheltered to be throwing dungeon parties.” Bull replied.

“By the Maker... that’s enough, both of you.” Cassandra’s harsh reprimand, defending her Inquisitor.

“The Lady is a tad nervous, I suspect. I’m sure she didn’t expect such a crowd.” Leave it to Dorian to let her know that there was quite a showing, she thought. 

“I suspect we are here for an explanation.” Solas’ voice stirred the others, most raising completely valid questions.

“Indeed, that is the truth of it.” Carver sighed, she could almost picture him in her head, scratching the bald patch she had given to him during the Annulment, getting seared by the gauntlet that had been holding his head when she struck the Templar who held him. 

Marie did what she could to pry herself from the corner, chanting softly to herself as she did what she could to reinforce her inner walls. She crept out of the cell, inching closer to the door, her stomach in open rebellion and twisted into knots.

“Is this about the Knight-Commander?” Leliana’s voice; the spymaster piecing things together rapidly. When she had asked her to come, there was a knowing look in Leliana’s eyes as she bowed and fled from her.

“It is about Marie.” Carver replied. “It is about a phenomenon known as _Vis Naturae_.”

There was the sound of haughty laughter, one she knew well as the First Enchanter. “There have been no _Vis Naturae_ born in ages, Enchanter Carver.” Marie could hear the condescension in Vivienne’s tone, the way she must have been looking down on Carver for even mentioning it. 

“I beg to differ, Lady Vivienne.” Dorian’s voice challenged her. “I think what you really mean is that they don’t survive.”

“What is this _Vis Naturae_?” Cullen asked, the one she was terrified of, Marie finally leaning against the wall beside the door, her hands still clutched tight to her coat, her breathing shallow. She pushed the door open with an elbow, hoping to just slither inside, but all those eyes turned on her, pinning her in the doorway.

“What the Tevinter’s call ‘a force of nature.’” Marie answered, finding her voice. “I am a _Cor Procellam_ … or as the Circle Templars liked to label me, Ostwick’s Thunderborn.”

They were all there, every single one of them, coming as she had asked. Even the Commander, standing by the only exit, his face set in a curious frown even as his honey hued eyes watched her.

“To put it simply, Lady Marie was born with a fade-touched heart.” Carver said.

“That is a terribly vast over-simplification.” Vivienne scoffed. 

“Indeed it is, but not everyone here is equipped to understand more than that.” Solas interjected. 

“Then I would like to see the markings.” Vivienne said, making Marie cower further into her coat. “If you are _Vis Naturae_ , texts say then that the element that resides in your chest will have marked its’ vessel.”

“This shit is weird. Are you getting any of this?” Varric’s voice cut in, Marie noticing that he was looking at Bull.

“I believe I understand.” Bull replied to Varric.

Vivienne approached Marie, her hands reaching for her clenched fists, when Carver stepped in her way.

“That is ill advised, Lady Vivienne.” Carver warned, his eyes sharp.

“It’s alright Carver.” Marie said, one of her hands finally releasing her coat to place a hand on his shoulder. Although she was still beyond terrified, her heart pounding violently as light webbed between her fingers and the buttons of her coat, she started to unbutton it.

Marie knew what Vivienne wanted to see, opening the front of her coat wide to get to the buttons of the shirt underneath. She distanced herself mentally from her hands, opening the shirt wide enough for Vivienne to look, to see, to understand. Speckled in swirling patterns from above her heart, dusting her collarbones and going even further under the edges of her shirt and jacket, were the pale white and blue freckles that marked her as a _Vis Naturae_. 

There were long moments of silence that Marie watched Vivienne’s proud features shift, the First Enchanter’s eyes changing in that oh so familiar way. She changed as the Knights had changed, just as she had feared.

“Commander Cullen.” Vivienne turned and pointed to Cullen standing in the back as Marie stood with her chest bared, showing the marks to the others as she moved out of the way. “The Inquisitor is but one step away from being an abomination. Gather the Templars-”

“No.” The Commander’s voice carried through the dungeon with that one word, both hands balanced on the pommel of his sword. Out of everyone in that dungeon, he was the one she feared the most, feared having his eyes turn cold. “I will do no such thing, to the Inquisitor or our remaining Templars.”

“Have you not seen what the lady does to Templars?” Blackwall snorted. 

“Commander, a _Vis Naturae_ is a natural disaster waiting to happen. Having it also be a mage is beyond any means of control.” Vivienne declared, but the Commander only frowned at her, his brow furrowed as he stood his ground by the only way out. “If left unchecked, this could destroy us.”

“I am not an abomination, Vivienne.” Marie interrupted, gathering the Enchanter’s attention again. She didn’t bother to cover the marks up again, refusing herself the comfort of hiding. “This is the strength that I’ve used to protect my Circle, the mages of the Rebellion, and now the Inquisition. I have done so little to reward the faith you all have placed in me. Showing you this, what I am, it is the only thing I could find worthy enough of all of you… and should you allow me to continue, there will be nothing I won’t do to protect everything that you hold dear.”

All Marie could hear was the pounding of her own heart and that of the waterfall as the dungeon grew quiet, Vivienne moving away from her as she looked to the others.

“Commander, will you do nothing?” Vivienne asked coldly as she passed through the others, proudly staring down Cullen as he stared back, meeting her stony gaze.

“I. will do. _nothing_.” He responded, just as cold.

With that, the First Enchanter was the first to leave the dungeon. 

“May we ask questions?” Leliana asked once Vivienne was gone, Marie taking a steadying breath as, to her great relief, none of the others walked out of the dungeon.

“I will answer as best I can.” Marie replied.

\-----------------------------------------------  
Cullen listened as the others asked her questions, her shirt and jacket still open to show the silvery white and blue pattern that speckled the alabaster skin that peeked out. Lady Trevelyan was true to her word, answering each question to the best of her ability, trying to help them understand what made her different. He had been right, that she had something more to her than just being an ordinary mage, but he hadn’t expected that she was possessed of something so unusual, so dangerously rare. 

Vivienne called her an abomination, which had brought memories of Kinloch Hold screaming to the fore, Cullen gripping the hilt of his sword to control the wash of images that threatened to sweep him away into nightmares. Cullen was a man of his word, and he would do nothing; he would not jail her for what she was with Templars, the rebel queen would only decimate their numbers with brutal efficiency, and she wasn’t possessed of any spirit or demon.  
From how she had explained it, the very essence of a thunderstorm thrummed feral inside of her, the _Vis Naturae_ she had called it, a wild sliver of the fade that she was born possessing. That fact alone had put her life in danger, as the value of a fade-touched heart would have had every ambitious Tevinter scrambling to carve it out of her chest should they have found out. Dorian and Solas confirmed these facts, Dorian quickly explaining a few uses a clever mage could have for such a grisly trophy, and the power that it would grant. 

The feint trickling pulses of her power already made his blood hum as light webbed and arced between her fingers and buttons, Lady Trevelyan doing her best to keep her voice steady as the answers flowed from her. The questions eventually slowed, many of her inner circle having retired from the meeting long before some of the others, but none left like Vivienne. 

Blackwall had bowed, ever the gentleman. Josephine had followed after Blackwall, her noteboard full of new things for her to look up and find out about. Varric had shrugged and apologized for the wagon, said he’d use his winnings from Dorian to replace it. Bull had stayed for most of it, listening as Cullen had, and when he approached her he offered his ear if she needed to “do any talking.” Sera had slipped out using her impressive vocabulary of profanities, and Cole; well, he just wasn’t there anymore. 

“I do believe we’ve answered all we can.” Dorian said as he made his exit, giving the Inquisitor a flourish of a bow before sauntering past Cullen and up the stairs. Solas followed closely after him, his staff tapping on the steps as he climbed out of Skyhold’s dungeon.

Which left Cassandra, Leliana, and himself with the Inquisitor and Enchanter Carver.

“Is this _Vis Naturae_ what the Knight-Commander was coming for?” Cassandra asked, her arms crossed over her chest. The Seeker had not asked many questions herself, pondering them thoroughly before speaking.

“There are… a few reasons.” The Inquisitor said cautiously. “But yes, it is the primary reason. He was my guardian when I was in Ostwick.”

“Are the other reasons something we should be worried about?” Leliana asked, and Lady Trevelyan scoffed, rolling her hunter eyes.

“Just some political garbage, nothing that should effect the Inquisition.” She replied. 

“Thank you, your Worship, for telling us this.” Cassandra said as she turned on her heel and was gone next, up the stairs with her heavy feet.

“Carver, you may leave. It is late and the children will be up early.” The Inquisitor said to the Enchanter, who scratched his head as he pursed his lips, nodding to acknowledge her.

“I will walk with you, Master Carver.” Leliana said as she met the Enchanter’s stride. “I’ll see you in the morning, your Worship.”

“Thank you, the company is most appreciated Sister Leliana.” Carver said, turning back just before leaving the dungeon. “Lady Marie, you did the right thing.”

“So you keep telling me.” The Inquisitor replied. 

She still stood by that far door, not having moved much since coming from the open air cells, and he hadn’t said much of anything since he had come down here. As Cullen continued to digest the information, piecing together the puzzle that was Lady Trevelyan, he heard her sigh, looking at her as he watched her wrap her arms around her waist.

“You don’t have to stay, Commander. I will be… down here for a bit longer.” The Inquisitor said, opening the far door to where the cells opened up to the sky. He watched her shiver as she stepped through, only taking a few steps before sitting on the floor’s edge, dangling her feet over the waterfall. 

Cullen left the place he had been standing at the whole meeting, slowly crossing the dungeon to step through the door, his breath creating soft white puffs in the midnight air. He could see her by the glow of the moonlight shining off of the snow and ice, her jacket and shirt still unbuttoned from when Vivienne had demanded she show what marked her, Cullen noticing that the feint little freckles shimmered with their own kind of glow. 

“There was no word, for heaven or for earth, for sea or sky. All that existed was silence. Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, the first Word, and His Word became all that might be: Dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities....”

Her soft chanting was interrupted as she shivered again, holding herself tightly, her teeth chattering as she tried to rub her own arms for warmth. If he let her, she would stay here on her own and just ignore the cold, chanting in the dark until she was numb. 

He unbuckled the clasp holding his mantle in place, removing it from his shoulders. With a few steps he was close enough to drape it around her, the fur practically swallowing her up as her head whipped around to look at him. He watched as a ripple of static shimmered through the fur, making some of the lighter parts lift and stand, giving her a small smile as he balanced his hands again on his sword, continuing the chant where she had left off.

“… And from it made his firstborn. And he said to them: In My image I forge you, To you I give dominion over all that exists. By your will may all things be done.” Even though he couldn’t hear her, her lips moved with his, mouthing the words even as she looked up at him with those intense hunter eyes of hers. “You can return it to me tomorrow.”

She looked back out into the open sky, grasping the edges of his cloak and pulling it tighter about herself. Cullen couldn’t help smiling at the thought that he liked seeing her wrapped up in his cloak, enveloped and protected from the cold.

“Thank you, Cullen.” She said softly.

“You’re welcome, Inquisitor.” He responded.

“Marie.”

“What?”

“You can… call me Marie.”

“Alright, uh… you’re welcome, Marie.” With that she buried herself further into his cloak, his heart pounding as he bowed slightly and left her to her solitude. Cullen could hear her chanting again when he was halfway up the stairs, and he stopped to listen as her gentle, pleading cadence echoed up the stairwell. He closed his eyes as he let her voice carry on through him, whispering the chant with her, wondering what it was that she so fervently prayed for in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I have no idea how Tevene works and haven't found a good source for translations, and I've noticed that much of the tidbits of the language seem to be Latin at its roots, I've taken the liberty to just use Latin for some descriptions. ^.^
> 
> Cor Procellam - Heart of the Storm  
> Vis Naturae - Force of Nature
> 
> I knew four years of Latin would come in handy some day!


	17. The Sin of House Trevelyan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is the Sin of House Trevelyan? A bit of Marie's history, the defining moment that broke her; the Annulment of Ostwick.

_It was Uncle Edward’s retirement party, and Marie couldn’t help but feel scared as their new Knight-Commander, Henric, sat at the head table with father and the others. Father and Uncle Edward had been in talks with Knight-Commander Henric for the past month, readying the man for the care and protection of Ostwick’s prize and greatest secret, the Bann's Vis Naturae daughter._

_Marie didn’t like him; the way he watched her, his eyes roaming in a way that made her feel exposed, how his smile seemed to hide something that frightened her down to her bones. Even now, as he spoke with her father and Uncle Edward, she could feel his eyes on her as she danced with one of her lord father’s banner men._

_It shouldn’t have bothered her, she was a young woman of twenty-two and, by the accounts she had received from those brave enough to tell her, possessing of no small measure of beauty._

_But Henric made her skin crawl._

_“Lady Marie, may I have this dance?” Another nobleman, just as she thought she might have a moment to escape._

_“I would be delighted, my lord.” She replied, plastering her best smile over the scowl as she presented the man with her hand._

_With her cerulean and gold gown slithering across her skin, catching the light as she moved to the rhythm of the string quartet, her slippered feet knew where to go even as her mind was elsewhere, trying not to focus on the fear that rattled her caged heart._

_Like all the other soirees and balls that she was required to attend, it was never over quickly enough. Marie had been dusted off, cleaned and dressed, painted and coiffed, and now it was time to put her away._

_So Uncle Godwin had escorted her as he always had done, surrounded by Uncle Edward’s hand-picked knights and Knight-Commander Henric, and they were off to put Bann Trevelyan’s caged butterfly away. The sigh of relief once the doors to the Circle closed behind her was audible, the safety of familiarity and the protection of the Knights allowing her to finally relax._

_“Thank you all for your diligence, good sirs.” Marie said to the Templar Knights, curtsying politely._

_Enchanter Carver was waiting, but not for her. Something grim lined his face as she approached him. His shrewd eyes were looking past her to Godwin and their new Knight-Commander._

_“First Enchanter,” Carver said as he placed a hand on her shoulder, using her as a buffer to speak to Godwin. “I have news from Kirkwall…”_

_\-------------------------------  
And what news it had been from Kirkwall, Knight-Commander Henric locking down the Circle in response, Marie secluded in the Chantry with Sir Aaron, one of her Knights. As was expected of her whenever she had set foot inside of the Chantry, she kneeled before the statue of Andraste and prayed, chanting for control of her inner storm and repentance for what she was._

_“… Passing out of the world, in that Void shall they wander; O unrepentant, faithless, treacherous, they who are judged and found wanting shall know forever the loss of the Maker's love. Only Our Lady shall weep for them.” Marie prayed for the lives lost in Kirkwall, for the lives that continued to be lost as the uprising continued to spread across the Free-Marches, to give strength to those Templars who fought valiantly against the Maleficarum and apostates that threatened to tear the Chantry apart._

_She prayed for all those that kept her safe, as Uncle Edward and Sister Victoria did, as Sir Aaron and the other Knights did, even though they barely accepted her as human._

_She heard him moving, the familiar creak and shift of Templar armor, the sound of boots on stone as Sir Aaron approached the alter._

_“Will you join me in prayer, Sir Aaron?” Marie asked, looking up from her folded hands to look at the young Templar. He had soft blue eyes and dark hair like most Free-Marchers, and was not much older than herself. He was the kindest of the Knights, soft-hearted and sweet despite his duties to watch Ostwick’s Thunderborn. She liked him because he was kind to her, much like Enchanter Carver._

_“If it does not bother you, Lady Marie.” Sir Aaron said as he kneeled beside her, unsheathing his sword and placing the tip to the stone, his hands balanced on the pommel. Marie was used to that precaution, they had to be whenever they were close to her, knowing how her Vis Naturae called to them._

_“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.” She began again, waiting for his voice to join hers._

_It was then that she heard an odd sound outside of the Chantry, the bang of front doors flying open to slam against the inner walls. Marie moved to get to her feet, questioning words on her lips, when Sir Aaron dropped his sword and grabbed her hands. It clattered loudly across the stones and down the shallow steps and away from the alter._

_“Lady Marie, please… don’t go out there.” Sir Aaron said as the first scream pierced the night air._

_“By the Maker, what’s happening?” Marie said breathlessly, terror gripping her heart even as the edges of his gauntlets dug into her fingers to keep her kneeling._

_“A Rite of Annulment, my lady.” Sir Aaron said, and Marie felt something inside of her crack._

_“A Rite… but the Circle isn’t corrupt! Why did the Knight-Commander…”_

_“I’ll protect you, my lady.” Sir Aaron said as Marie saw that there were tears in his eyes. The storm stirred inside her as the fear clutched at her heart, pounding relentlessly as Sir Aaron took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. “They are coming for you, but I won’t let them take you.”_

_She felt his chest convulse as she heard him hold in a sob, her body tense at the sudden contact, the Templar breaking the carefully laid out rules that Uncle Edward had put in place._

_“But… the Circle… it’s not…” Marie began to shake as she grasped on to Aaron’s emblazoned armor, small arcs of light webbing between her fingers as she failed to control herself._

_“I promise, I won’t let them take you…” Aaron murmured as he pressed his face into her hair, his voice ragged with grief, Marie shaking so much that she hadn’t noticed that he had pulled a dagger from his belt._

_She gasped as the blade cut into her robe and pierced her skin, scraping along her rib and forcing her to cry out, to hold on to Aaron’s armor in desperation and pain as he held her tightly to him._

_“It’ll b-be alright, it will be over quickly n-now… they won’t have you, I-I promise.”_

_The clatter of the dagger on the stone was far away as he held her tightly with both arms, blood seeping through her robes and trickling down her thigh as Sir Aaron wept, crying into her hair. The screams, the smell of burning and ozone, the sounds of the Circle trying to defend itself…_

_“Maker forgive me…” Aaron whispered._

_He was meant to protect, they were all meant to protect. Why were they turning on a Circle so benign? She felt her heart stutter, struggling as she felt the blood soak into the fabric under her knee. The Knights… she had grown up knowing them all. Why were they betraying her? What had she done? Her grip weakened on his armor, tears streaking down her face at the pain, the betrayal of her trust in them…_

_Something inside of Marie finally broke._

_The fear and pain were suddenly gone as power surged through her veins, her heart singing in her breast… and she smiled, teeth bared, feral and savage._

_“Liar!” She hissed, that sweet, potent energy flowing through her body and into the emblazoned metal, the steel turning orange at her fingertips as his body convulsed and grew taut. The stench of burning flesh filled the chantry as she let his corpse drop to the stone, fluids leaking from between the plates as she struggled to her feet._

_She was still bleeding, even though she could no longer feel the pain. Marie tore the hole in her robes larger as the air filled with screams and curses, pressing her smallest finger into the torn flesh, gritting her teeth and searing it shut with a short burst of energy. The pain, the sweet agony, only swirled within her as she pushed through the Chantry doors, swinging them wide to the carnage on the other side._

_Blood was everywhere, pooled around robed bodies lying uncounted and ignored as the Templars stepped over them to get to the next target. Fires burned unnaturally hot as spell purges extinguished them, shards of futile ice shattering against the flaming swords on Templar shields._

_Then there was Enchanter Carver, a Templar bracing his strike with a gauntleted hand on the man’s head, his ordained sword aimed to skewer him through the chest. Enchanter Carver, with the paper pawns and folded rose knights, the sweet cakes and candies, the reminder that she was still a girl beneath all the expectations piled high on her._

_The Storm, savage and merciless, roared._

_Marie screamed, thunder clapping so loud and forceful that the walls cracked and shook the tower. Lightning, pure and potent, scrambled through the cracks in the stone, dancing deadly lights, climbing into the very armor that the Templars used to protect themselves. Spikes of lightning ricocheted from Templar to Templar, the air filling with smoke and the sickeningly sweet stench of cooking human flesh. The first one to burst like an overripe fruit was the one that held Enchanter Carver, steaming blood spraying from between the plates, his ribs sundering and scattering bits of bone and half-cooked organs as the greases oozed over the enameled flaming sword._

_And as the rest of the Templars came to their doom, unable to resist the call, the music that sang and pulled at the lyrium in their veins, all she could do was laugh as they all died._

_\----------------------------------  
When at last the storm was done, there wasn’t a single Templar left standing in the Ostwick Circle. Marie had been found in the vestibule of the Circle tower, the remains of what was once Henric blasted from floor to ceiling. Her hair was matted with blood and gore, bits of bone and flesh clinging to what had once been good robes, holding in her caked hands the heat mangled helm of the Knight-Commander. _

_Eerily, angrily, she chanted into the cool night air, clutching that mangled metal to her chest. “Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker.” Marie had saved her Circle, those she loved as family even as she had slain the other half of it; and the Chantry, having seen what her magic had wrought, named her Maleficar, the Sin of House Trevelyan._

The Order had declared Marie too much of a threat to let stand idly by, and couldn't just kill the Bann's daughter without good cause. With many of the other Circle's being Annulled in light of the events in Kirkwall, what was one more?


	18. The Commander's Cloak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie is distracted by Cullen's fur mantle, and Dorian knows just how to calm her frayed nerves. Cullen seems to be caring less and less about what she is versus who she is.

Marie had slunk back to her quarters at some point in the predawn hours, guiltily wrapped up in the furry mantle Cullen had draped about her shoulders some hours before. She had sat down in the dungeon to calm herself, to fortify her inner walls in the solitude of the dark, and hadn’t expected Cullen to stay.

She hadn’t expected him to drape his trademark cloak around her, surrounding her in his residual warmth and the smells that came with it; the leather and armor oil, the musky smell of the fur, something vaguely citrus, permeated by the familiar incense of the Chantry, and what she could only recognize as perhaps him. It was heavy, far heavier than she had expected it to be, and then he added his voice to her chant. That thrumming soft purr, rolling across her skin as it did through the empty dungeon, did nothing to help her pounding heart as the static rippled through the fur of his cloak.

And then when he finally said her name…

Hiding her face in his cloak did nothing to help her burning blush, butterflies fluttering around the knots in her stomach as her heart stampeded through her chest. It was a Maker given mercy when he left her alone, allowing her the moments necessary to desperately pray for the will to war with her blasphemous temptation as she warred with the storm within.

So once in her quarters she freed herself from it and tossed it on her bed, all nerves and prickling skin, plopping down in her chair on the other side of her desk and watching it like it would get up and wrap itself around her again. Marie could still smell it on her, or was it that she could smell it from across the room? She didn’t know. And unable to sleep from the nerves and stress, the dawn still some ways away, she lit some candles and dove into the backlog of paperwork that had piled on her desk over the past few days.  


Marie dove into it with reckless abandon, needing to have the distraction of work. Something other than the sound of his voice or the lingering scent on her skin and clothes, or the fact that she was even still here to see another dawn. 

She signed off on lists of requisitions, read through reports from Leliana about the state of the Hinterlands, found herself scowling through a stack of information Josephine sent her about the nobles she should acquaint herself with for the Masquerade. There were plans left for her perusal for other parts of the castle submitted by architects, a scribbled note and some drawings from Sera that made her giggle and blush a bit.

And between almost every new report, she stared at the damn cloak on her bed.

The candles had shrunk down to almost nubs by the time sunlight scattered colors across the floor, dawn breaking over Skyhold as Marie paused, standing to stretch and watch the sun rise. She had been terrified that she wouldn’t see the dawn, that the last sight she would see was Cullen taking his ordained sword and cleaving her head from her shoulders. 

“Hello! Good morning, my sweet Marie!”

Her door was pushed open, Dorian’s voice preceding him up the few short steps into her room. Dorian carried a tray with an earthenware bottle and a platter of biscuits and a small jar of jam, a few cold cuts of ham folded neatly on a plate. His hair was carefully arranged as it usually was, slicked back with disheveled precision to best compliment his dashing moustache. 

“I brought breakfast, thought I’d wake you as you surely have a busy day.” He said, unusually cheery considering the events of the previous night.

“Dorian, the sun just rose. Why are you here?” Marie asked, just a little sleep deprived and confused. It took Dorian less than a minute to spot the Commander’s cloak thrown across her bed, his eyes lighting up as Marie started to blush again.

“I thought I would have been the first to you this morning, but I guess I don’t move as swiftly as certain strapping Templar Commanders.” 

“Dorian, it’s not what you think!” Marie said, starting to panic again as her buttons lit up with arcs of light. 

“You look no less rumpled than when I left you…” Dorian pondered, crossing her room to put the tray down on her desk before leaning against it, pilfering one of the biscuits. “An act of chivalry then. How dreadfully dull, but I can’t say I’m not surprised.”

“Maker’s breath, why are you here?” Marie grumbled, taking a piece of the cold ham and taking a bite, hoping that her stomach wouldn’t reject it.

“An excellent question! Well, now that your little secret is out, I thought I’d at least give you warning that I will be starting my research on your condition without delay.” Dorian replied cheerfully, taking a bite of his pilfered biscuit. 

“I thought you already knew about what I am.” Marie asked, finishing that piece of ham before moving on to one of the biscuits, spreading some blackberry jam on it before taking a delicate bite.

“To a degree, yes.” Dorian replied. “It’s not common knowledge, and much of what is known has been lost or misplaced. But! You, my darling sweetheart, the magnificent, magnanimous, beautifully ravishing creature that you are, present a rare opportunity to learn more about it.”

“All that flattery must really hurt.” Marie laughed, investigating what was in the earthenware bottle, finding cool honeyed milk. She poured some into the provided glass, using it to wash down her biscuit before sitting back down in her chair. “I take it you are trying to ask me to be a part of this aforementioned research?”

“I do love to talk about myself, but you deserve the flattery, sweetheart.” Dorian said as he walked over to her nightstand, picking up the boar bristle brush and sauntering back over to the desk, moving around it to stand behind her. “But yes, I would love it if you aided in the research. It wouldn’t mean much without you.” Dorian pulled the sandalwood comb free from her coiled hair, placing it on the desk with her brush as he loosened her dark chocolate waves and gently combed his fingers through it. Marie couldn’t help but sigh and close her eyes as he used his fingertips to gently massage her scalp, feeling some of that deep seated stress and tension start to melt. The clever Tevinter knew her weakness, and was preying upon it without mercy.

“You make a convincing case.” Marie mumbled, floating on the feel of his fingers, the way they tugged gently at the roots of her hair. “I suppose I can aid you… within reason.”  


“Of course, sweetheart.” Dorian purred, taking up the brush and turning the most functional parts of her brain to mush as he began his long strokes. 

“In exchange,” Marie said as she lazily picked up another piece of cold ham and nibbled it as he continued his ministrations. “You will help me with my preparations for Halamshiral.”

“Fair enough.” He said with a chuckle, and he started to pull the strands of her hair into one of the herringbone braids she liked and didn’t have the patience to do herself. He was done before she knew it, still floating on the sensations as he took the tail of the braid and secured it underneath with the sandalwood comb he had given her. “Better?”

“Hmm…” Marie opened her eyes, the colorful splay of light from the stained glass windows blurry until it came back into focus. What also came back into focus was the fur mantle still sitting on her bed. “I’ve got to return that.”

“Ah, the scandalous return. Try not to shock the poor man.” Marie couldn’t help but blush again, but she was more in control now, far more relaxed. No lights skittered across her buttons or webbed between her fingers. Dorian had his hands perched against the back of her chair, leaning over her as he chuckled.

“You’re having too much fun at my expense.” She replied with an exasperated sigh. She leaned forward in her chair, picking up the next report in her stack of backlogged paperwork, and set it aside as she noticed a letter beneath it, sealed with the Trevelyan crest, the stallion in gray wax.

She picked it up and broke the seal, taking a shaky breath as she unfolded the thick paper and looked for the writer’s name; Bann Meyrend Trevelyan, her father. Marie skimmed through the letter, the familiar way that her father listed out his expectations, the same way he had sent her letters years ago when she was secluded in the Circle. There was the sprinkling of pleasantries, the flourish of pride and honor, the sickening air of pretending like nothing had gone wrong.

“Bad news?” Dorian asked as Marie tossed the letter down with a snarl.

“Be grateful that your father actually cares about your well-being beyond your usefulness.” Marie stood, Dorian moving out of her way as she crossed her room to her dresser. “You go on and start your research, I know you’re practically vibrating out of your skin to get started. I need to make myself presentable.”

“Let me know if you need anything sweetheart.” Dorian replied, stealing one more biscuit before sauntering across the room and down the stairs, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Marie removed her coat and shirt, tossing them into the laundry basket as she picked out her clothes for the day, pulling a clean undershirt over the speckled pale swirls on her skin. Taking care to make sure that none of those telltale spots were showing as she buttoned up her jacket, checking the mirror to inspect her neck and face, Marie felt adequately covered. 

And with that she returned to staring at the furry mantle on her bed, approaching it cautiously, picking it up with both hands and folding it carefully. The smell of it, of him, filled her nose and made her skin prickle all over again, and despite the guilty flush of her cheeks, she smiled as she descended the stairs from her quarters.

\-------------------------------------------  
Cullen had hardly slept, his limbs aching the moment he had tried to lay his head down, his mind replaying the vision of her pulling his cloak tight around her body, the strange pale freckles that shimmered on her chest. Then there were the nightmares, the demons of Kinloch Hold that had attempted to break him, the desire demon Uldred had set to him now wearing the pale freckles and alabaster skin of Lady Trevelyan, chanting in that desperately soft voice, splattered in the blood of his Templar brothers and sisters.  
He had woken in a cold sweat, pain lacing through his body. 

The bitter cold of Skyhold poured into the hole in the roof just as the sunlight did, but it hardly registered. When Cullen had to struggle to wake himself from the nightmares, the cold helped. He rolled and placed both feet on the cold stone, letting the icy sting of reality force its way through the pain of the lyrium withdrawal, baring his teeth as he hissed through the agony. 

Cullen reached out to where he had discarded his undershirt, pulling it over his head as he reminded himself of the realities around him, and not the demons and abominations of Kinloch Hold or the Gallows in Kirkwall. He was Commander of the Inquisitions forces, an Advisor to the Herald of Andraste. 

The morning drills needed to be overseen, and he did so while he received the days first reports, and none of that could be done if he didn’t get up. 

Cullen was already into his morning ritual, having shivered over to his armor stand and donning his under padding and breastplate, the nightmares receding with the lacing pain, settling as a dull ache in his joints. He buckled on his spaulders and gauntlets, checking one last time to make sure that everything was secure with practiced hands before slipping his cold feet into his boots.

As he reached for his cloak, finding that his gloved hands closed around nothing, he then remembered that he had draped it about Marie’s shoulders. Despite the ache in his joints, the cold that burned at his skin, he couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at his lips. 

Cullen would just have to go without it until Lady Marie returned it, he thought with a chuckle. 

He climbed down the rungs of the ladder to his office, striding to the door and unbolting it, squinting into the sunlight as he descended down the stairs and towards the training grounds.

“Report.” He said to the first messenger he approached at the edge of the grounds, getting handed the first missive as the messenger recited his report. His eyes scanned the troops sparring as one of his lieutenants barked at them through their drills. Cullen walked through the ranks as the small army of messengers came and went, barking the occasional correction at the sparring soldiers, hammering out the details of securing the route to the Winter Palace. 

“Commander?” He turned to the messenger, the man saluting him but with nothing in his hands and no immediate report forthcoming.

“What?” He snapped, the man giving him a sly grin as he pointed somewhere behind Cullen.

Cullen turned to where the messenger was pointing, and standing on the edge of the training grounds, the fur mantle of his cloak folded neatly and held with both of her arms, was the Inquisitor. Her intense hunter eyes were watching him from across the field, Lady Marie’s dark chocolate hair intricately braided and secured with her sandalwood comb, her shirt and enchanters coat buttoned as high as they would go, adequately dressed for the cold.

He waved off the remaining messengers, balancing his hand on the pommel of his sword as he crossed the training field to where the Inquisitor stood. She shuffled her feet anxiously, trying to hold her position as he approached.

Before he could say anything, she held out his cloak, holding it as far from her as she could, her eyes breaking away to look down and to the right, hints of a blush on her alabaster cheeks.

“I was tempted to have a messenger return it in my place, but that seemed rather impersonal considering the circumstances.” She said, waiting for him to take it. “A lady should never reward chivalry with indifference.”

Cullen chuckled, taking his cloak from her outstretched arms, unfurling it and fastening it back about his shoulders. He would leave the fabric loose for now, he could secure it how he liked it later, but for now he was savoring the blush on her cheeks and trying not to grin like a fool, rubbing his neck as her hunter eyes settled on him again.

“I, um… Thank you, my lady.” Cullen said as he watched her hands settle over her belly, her fingers folding together as she straightened and looked back at him, familiar arcs of light dancing between her buttons. 

“I’ll… see you in the war room, Commander.” Lady Marie said quickly, giving a ladylike curtsy and turning to walk away. He couldn’t help but observe her graceful chanter’s stride, his eyes following her until she disappeared inside of the Herald’s rest.

Cullen turned back to the training field, too many eyes and knowing grins aimed his way.

“Back to work!” He ordered, his heavy cloak fluttering around him as he walked back towards the center of the training field, messengers waiting for him to return from his moment with the Inquisitor. Maker preserve him, he hadn’t really thought about the rumors this would start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want Cullen's cloak. o.o *grabby hands*


	19. The Effects of Liquid Bravery, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian's research begins, Varric and Bull commandeering Marie for drinks despite her protestations.

Over the next few days, it was as if Marie hadn't told them a life changing secret at all.

Well, maybe except for Vivienne. The First Enchanter would be up on her balcony, watching her with cool and calculating eyes, the mage most assuredly trying to figure out a way to either use her or control her. Control was probably foremost in her mind; a _Vis Naturae_ of any variety was considered dangerous by any text that could be found, but there were weaknesses that could be exploited.

Weaknesses like what Dorian discovered, when he had brought Marie to the training yard. In his enthusiasm, he had had a table with several books and instruments set up with some targets and simple Circle inspired learning devices. A small crowd had gathered, including various members of her inner circle; Varric, Bull, and Solas had found a place by the tavern, Vivienne from her Balcony, Sera looking on from the roof. All she could do was groan, knowing what the outcome would be, but having said that she would aid him in his research, she obliged. When he had asked her to strike a target with lightning, everything down to the wooden pole it had been attached to exploded, showering the area with bits of hay and splinters after the resulting thunderclap; the control test. When he had asked her to strike the next target with fire, Marie bit her lip in concentration, pulling at the unfamiliar energy that barely obeyed her at the best of times, and struck the dummy with a decent blast of flames.

When he had asked her to hit the third target with ice, Marie winced. Marie couldn't even frost a window, much less do damage to a straw target with it. It was also around that time that many of the mages had started to filter out of the tower they had claimed for their own, responding to the feint call of her magic as well as the crackle of unleashed power.

"Fascinating!" Dorian had exclaimed after several minutes of her failing to summon even a snowflake, her fingers sparking with the effort. "Absolutely fascinating! Your affinity is so strong that you can’t even access unrelated arcane elements."

"Andraste's flaming a-!" Marie swiped a hand at the target, unleashing her frustration in a crack of arcing light, splintering it as she had done the first target and showering the bits across some of her audience, laughter rising through the ranks as the faithful heard their Inquisitor swear like a Chantry sister. 

That weakness aside, over the course of that first day, Marie demonstrated for Dorian some of the abilities she developed as a _Cor Procellam_ ; the intricate weaving of the storm's currents into the barrier she favored, how she could card the electricity between her hands like wool and fold it like a blacksmith would steel to generate a far more powerful strike, even though it took time and was not really viable on the battlefield. She showed him how she could use the concussive power of a thunderclap to stun, or how to fan the arcs of light through the ground or water, all using the power of the storm within with the minimal expenditure of her own mana, maintaining those careful inner walls.

The sun had begun to dip below the high walls of Skyhold by the time Dorian had called it a day, gathering up all his notes and sketches with an excited flourish. "See you in the morning, Sweetheart!" He had called back to her as he sauntered away with his prize.

"Come on Sparky, you need a drink." Varric said to her as Marie let out a tired sigh. Certainly she hadn't expended too much of her mana, but it did take a great deal of focus and control to tap into the storm without setting it loose. There was still a lot she needed to have done before the end of the day though, so Marie folded her hands together as she recited the chant in her mind and prepared her refusal.

"I couldn't possibly-" Marie started politely, until Bull placed his extremely large hands on her shoulders and turned her towards the Herald's Rest, the static still clinging to her body sparking off his thick Qunari fingers as he laughed.

"Let's drink boss." Bull said as he gave her a friendly shove toward the door, many of those who had been watching the spectacle heading in that very same direction.

"No really, I-"

"Drink!" Iron Bull bellowed, pushing Marie the rest of the way inside. 

"A-alright!" Marie stammered, Bull continuing to direct her over to his customary table. "Just one, and then I must be back to work."

Just one, she had told herself.

\-----------------------------------  
Cullen had been working late that night, long after Lady Trevelyan’s ripples of power stopped thrumming through the stones of the castle and through his bones. It had been an enlightening display, thunder echoing through the courtyards of Skyhold even as lightning cracked and splintered the targets that Dorian had set out for her. Laughter erupted among the onlookers when she would swear in that proper and dignified way, censored by her own thunderclaps and splintering wood.

He had watched for a time from the walkway, the Inquisitor weaving her magic in ways only one with a fade-touched heart could, stretching and folding lightning like a baker pulled dough to the delight of her Tevinter. Cullen had turned away and went back inside, unable to watch the two of them. It had been a stark reminder that Marie, with her alabaster skin and dark chocolate hair, the shy smile that reached her hunter green stare, was not his to covet. 

So he threw himself into his work, into the cause he had sworn himself to. He was her Commander, and would expect him to advise her, despite what he might feel for her. He kept telling himself that he didn’t deserve her just to keep her out of his head.

Cullen had lit another set of candles as he worked through the maps on his desk, Orlais spread out before him as he marked where the supply lines would need to be secured for their journey through Emprise du Lion to Halamshiral, writing them down for the mornings meeting at the war table. It was late into the night when he heard shuffling outside his door, Cullen pausing to listen as the fire in the brazier popped and crackled.

Someone was humming on the battlements, badly off tune.

Cullen sighed, putting down his quill and parchment, going to the left hand door to where the off tune humming was coming from. It was probably some drunk soldier that had stumbled up there from the tavern, he thought. He would send them straight to the barracks to sober up…

He wasn’t expecting to see the Inquisitor, with bare feet dangling over the edge of the walkway in the bitter cold, humming badly into the night. Her hair was disheveled, tumbled about her shoulders as she giggled, illuminated by moonlight as she propped herself up with both arms.

“Maker’s breath, what are you doing out here?” Cullen’s heart jumped into his throat at how close to slipping off the edge she was, quickly striding over to grab her by the shoulders and drag her back. The smell of alcohol wafted from her as her feet came up over the edge, her head rolling against his chest as she giggled again. 

“I lost my boots.” She slurred, looking up at him with hazy green eyes. 

“Let’s get you inside.” He pulled her arm over his shoulder, half dragging her to her bare feet, Lady Trevelyan leaning bodily against him as he led her inside. 

Cullen tried to gently deposit her in his chair, the one usually pushed back and away from his desk so he could stand while he worked, but she practically spilled into it, giggling and humming and smiling, her cheeks flushed pink and lovely. Grabbing the arms of the chair he moved it closer to the desk and the brazier, unfastening his cloak and draping it around her, trying to warm her. How long had she been wandering around out there? Why hadn’t anyone brought her to her quarters?

“You’re really warm.” She mumbled, hands clumsily pulling the cloak tight around her, Cullen sure that she must be out of her senses as she put her head down on his desk.

“I’ll get Dorian.” Cullen said as he stood and turned, only to hear Lady Trevelyan snort.

“No, no… Dorian’s got shtuff he’s doin’ with Bull.” She chuckled. “Lemme just… rest my head…” A soft snore followed quickly after her last understandable word, Cullen standing there speechless.

He sighed, rubbing his neck as he walked over and shut the door that led to the battlements, trying to figure out what he was going to do with the Inquisitor now passed out on his desk, snoring softly while looking small and endearing in his cloak yet again.

Cullen found himself quietly seething moments later at the thought that whoever she had been drinking with had let her wander off with nothing on her feet in the snow, or that she wasn’t dressed to be standing outside in the frigid mountain air. Or that none of the guards posted on duty had sent word that the Inquisitor was drunkenly wobbling about the battlements. He would check the rotation roster and see who would be getting latrine duty for the next month, and he would find out who it was that had gotten her in this state.

Lady Trevelyan sighed in her sleep, snapping him from his train of thought. Maker, she glowed in the firelight, her eyelashes dark and long, loose strands of her dark chocolate waves framed her face. Cullen couldn’t help but observe her uninterrupted, discovering that some of those pale spots and freckles that swirled over her chest also hid on the bridge of her nose, hardly noticeable unless one looked for them. Her lips, parted slightly as she breathed, were soft and pink, and he dared brush some of those loose strands from her face.

Her eyes fluttered open, rousing enough to look up at him with those glorious hunter eyes, blinked a few times, and smiled. Maker preserve him, she could undo him with that uninhibited smile.

“Cullen?” She asked, her voice low and sultry.

“Yes, my lady?”

“I seem t' have fallen asleep on Orlais.” She slurred as she slowly sat up, pulling the edges of his cloak tighter around herself. Cullen chuckled as he came around his desk, offering her a hand. She either ignored it, or didn’t have the faculties to take it.

“Then perhaps you should have fallen asleep in your quarters, Lady Trevelyan.”

“Marie.” She replied. “I said you can call me Marie. Right now… I think this chair is more of a lady than me.” He restrained the snort of laughter that threatened to escape, taking her gently by the elbow and helping her stand.

Marie didn’t stay on her feet for long.

Tripping on nothing, her eyes rolling up into her head, she went down, Cullen quickly catching her before she could hit the stone.

Holding her so close, feeling her body up against his as she held on to him for support, he felt his cheeks flush as she giggled.

“Commander," She smiled. "I don’t think I’ll be making it on my own.” 

“Neither do I.” he replied, sounding exasperated. Making a decision, needing to get her out of his office and safely in her own quarters, he gently scooped her up into his arms. Marie was so light, so slender, and holding her tightly, protectively, her fingers curling into the edge of his chest plate, he carried her out of his office. As he stepped out across the walkway, he noticed the commotion down in the courtyard. Several members of the Chargers had stumbled out of the Herald’s rest, looking thoroughly around the courtyard, calling out for the Inquisitor.

“You got her Curly?” Varric’s voice carried up from below, Cullen looking down on the smiling dwarf and scowling at him in response. He would have yelled his disapproval across Skyhold if he wasn’t holding a sleeping Herald. 

So _now_ they notice she’s missing, he thought, Marie already softly snoring.

She was mumbling serenely as he walked to the castle door, past Solas in the painted room, who simply raised an eyebrow as he walked through.

Solas wasn’t the only one to notice either. 

Keeping his composure, hearing the dignified “harrumph” of Vivienne up on her balcony, Cullen made it to the private stairwell leading up to her quarters. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, feeling as though he had just passed through some kind of gauntlet, reminded of his precious cargo when her hand gently gripped at his chest plate.

Quietly up the stairs, making sure as to not get her legs caught on a railing or jostling her too much, Cullen finally reached her chamber. 

Cullen brought Marie to her canopied bed, laying her down gently as she hummed dreamily, rolling onto her side as he bare feet disappeared under the edge of his cloak, murmuring softly.

He didn’t want to leave her. Cullen hadn’t even kissed her or touched her, and yet he wanted to lay beside her and wrap himself around her warmth, to protect her. He wanted to slide his hand beneath her shirt, to touch the alabaster skin that peeked out from beneath, to glide his fingers over her belly and up over the expanse of her ribs. Cullen wanted to do more, all the while kissing those gently parted lips, to hear those desperate little sounds she would make while he explored just how far those freckles reached beneath her-

He stood up quickly and moved away from her sleeping form, trying to gain control of those spiraling thoughts. Here, alone with her, he couldn’t stop the thoughts, the _want_.

Cullen would resist, he would never take what wasn’t his to have, what he didn’t deserve. Sighing and rubbing the back of his neck, he looked at her again, wrapped up in his cloak like it belonged to her. Before he could stop it, the image of her wrapped in it, and _only_ it, popped into his head.

“Makers breath.” He swore quietly as there was a quiet knock on her door.

He hastily answered, opening to find Dorian on the other side, holding Marie’s staff and boots in hands.

_Andraste preserve me, why Dorian?_

“Varric told me that you might be up here, Commander.” He said with a knowing grin, and Cullen couldn’t help but scowl at the Tevinter as he took the staff and boots from him. “He thought she might need these.”

“I’ll tell her you brought them.” He said curtly, shutting the door on him.

“Good night!” He heard through the door, knowing that he would hear no end to this.

Marie was still asleep, unaware of what this was doing to him. Letting out a final sigh, Cullen walked the heavy copper cored staff over to its customary spot in the corner by the bed. It was where he noticed she kept it on the rare occasions he delivered reports up here himself. He placed the boots at the foot of her bed, and then all that was left was to leave her alone, let her sleep. But Cullen found himself watching her again, mapping those pale little freckles on the bridge of her nose, listening to the sigh of her breath. 

With his heart hammering mercilessly in his chest, chiding himself for his foolishness, he leaned in and pressed a small, fleeting kiss on her brow, lingering with the want for more, when she sighed and smiled.

“Cullen…” His name fell from her lips like a lovers caress, the remnant of a dream, making his blood roar in his ears. 

He fled at that, retreating to the safety of his tower and past all those prying eyes, trying to find a way to make the thoughts stop, but it was too late now. The sound of his name was in his head, breathy and sweet from her dreams, and he couldn’t get it out.


	20. The Effects of Liquid Bravery, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie wakes up to find that she has the Commander's cloak again, and gathers the courage to face him on the battlements.  
> Dammit Jim, go away!

Marie groaned, wickedly piercing sunlight filling her room with color as she hid deeper into whatever it was that she was wrapped up in. Her head pounded like it was stuffed full of aching cotton, she felt slimy and dirty and sweaty, and her feet were sore. 

Sliding out of her bed, her stomach rebelling against the forward momentum, she shuffled toward the decorative partition on the far side of the room that blocked the copper tub from view, dropping her warm covering on the floor so that she could start to peel her soiled clothes from her body. As she usually asked, the servants had filled the tub with water the day before. It was an old habit of hers, Marie insisting that heating water for her in the morning was a wasted effort considering she could just heat it herself. It also reduced the risk of curious eyes, Marie very self-conscious of the silvery blue and white swirls of freckles that started on her chest, the physical manifestation of her _Vis Naturae_ , as well as the myriad of scars she had earned on the front lines of the Mage-Templar war. 

Marie pulled her shirt groggily over her head and tossed it aside, grasping the edge of the copper tub and focusing on heating the water. It only took her three tries, not too bad considering how badly her brain wanted to ooze out of her ears. She managed to free herself of her undershirt and breast band, fighting with her pants and smallclothes until she was leaning against the tub naked, and with a little more effort she climbed into the water and sank into the scalding heat.

She let her head sink below the surface, letting the heat seep into her body, her mind slowly piecing together the events of the night before because, well, she didn’t remember how she got back to her room.

Bull had sat her down at his customary table surrounded by the Chargers, Varric planting himself on her left as Bull had to her right; to make sure she couldn’t just escape, no doubt. Marie clearly remembered the noise of the Tavern, the pint of ale plunked down in front of her, the sweet and bitter taste of it as she wet her lips. 

Marie was no drinker, never having even finished half a glass of wine; partly due to the fact that she had no idea what would happen if she did become truly drunk. She had never even been tempted to test her limits because she didn’t want to have to wake and find that people were dead because the storm slipped free of its cage.

So she wet her lips, listened as Bull introduce the members of his mercenary band, until Varric had caught on to what she was doing.

“The point of having a drink Sparky, is to drink.” Varric had said as he tapped her full mug with his almost empty one. “You can’t be her Inquisitorialness all the time.”

“This isn’t something I usually do.” Marie admitted, having felt more than uncomfortable. 

“I’m willing to bet you’ve never walked into a tavern on your own in your life.” Varric said as Marie had taken a large mouthful of ale, scrunching up her nose dramatically as the dwarf chuckled. 

“That a’ girl, Boss.” Bull bellowed, giving her a firm pat on the back as she almost choked on her mouthful of ale, swallowing it before it could be sprayed across the table. Laughter erupted from Krem and the others as Marie had coughed and sputtered, Varric having taken center stage as he began to spin one of his popular stories. 

It went back and forth from there, trading stories and jokes, the raunchier the better it seemed. The crackle of static sounded every time Bull patted her on the back or placed a hand on her shoulder, turning into background noise as she managed to finish the one mug that had been put in front of her. It went downhill when Marie started into the second cup that was blatantly placed in front of her, her head had started to feel light and her cheeks warmed, the laughter coming easier.

That was when the questions about the Commanders cloak started. 

Her rather public return of his cloak had stoked the flames of the Inquisitions rumor mill, the Mage Inquisitor and the Templar Commander, the “Rivalmance” the dwarf had called it. Varric assured her that the rumors had been circulating for some time, but that just made things worse. Which made Marie drink more, to try and drown the redness creeping up into her face. 

Marie blew bubbles in the tub, squirming under the water as she gripped the edges of the tub, ripples of light shimmering over her bath and along the copper.  
Their taunting had been relentless, and to her dismay it had only allowed those thoughts she struggled so hard with to find fertile ground and run rampant through her mind. Marie had vividly imagined running her fingers through those golden curls, the feel of his big, calloused hands on her, even what it might feel like to have the prickle of his stubble against her skin as he kissed her. She could imagine him gentle, reserved yet commanding, like tasting a forbidden fruit and fearing getting caught. 

What would he taste like? 

Marie snarled despite her fierce headache, rolling over in the water as she focused on getting the night’s grime and stink off of her skin. That was part of the temptation, now wasn’t it? It didn’t matter that the cadence of his voice made her skin tingle, how he practically purred when he talked to her. It didn’t matter that his Templar swagger made her mind spin around all of the things her imagination might let him do to her, causing her stormy heart to stampede through her chest. It had been drilled into her since before she was first sent to the Circle of Ostwick that Mages and Templars could not, _did not _fraternize. Not to mention all the others who wouldn’t fraternize with a Mage, any Mage for that matter, and not just the Sin of House Trevelyan, the storm hearted creature that she was. Commander Cullen though…__

__Maker, she couldn’t be faulted for looking, could she?_ _

__That was when her eyes fell to the cloak abandoned on the floor._ _

__The burgundy, unmistakably furry mantle that she had slept all wrapped up in._ _

__Marie shot up to her feet, soapy water splashing and energy arcing with it, gasping as she realized that she had either stolen Cullen’s cloak in a drunken stupor, or he was the one who got her up to her quarters last night._ _

__Marie looked around, her senses battle sharp in her panic as she registered where her boots were; placed neatly at the foot of the bed, not drunkenly kicked off. Her staff was not left abandoned on the floor, but standing in its customary spot in the corner by her bed. If she had stumbled in on her own, there was no doubt in her mind that there would have been a trail of abandoned clothing and objects from the door to the bed but…_ _

__“Cullen… he… I… shit.” Marie stammered through all that could have happened when she didn’t remember, all the things she might have said. The stupid, ignorant things she could have done. “Maker have mercy, kill me now.”_ _

__\---------------------------------------  
Cullen hadn’t slept well, between the intermittent nightmares and the dreams the sound of his name passing breathy from her lips inspired. He was up and out of his loft before the sun rose, fighting through the old aches and the new, following through with his promise to go over the previous night’s guard roster and reassign those soldiers who had let the Inquisitor drunkenly wander the battlements._ _

__And even after he had gone to the training field for morning drills, having thrown himself into the sparring ring himself, she was still wedged firmly in the forefront of his mind._ _

__“Inquisitor.” Lady Trevelyan descended from her quarters late that morning, stopped by Josephine even before she could get a glimpse of him standing guard halfway down the grand hall._ _

__Cullen had made it quite clear that no one was to disturb Lady Trevelyan until she woke on her own this morning, having already scowled away Dorian and Varric, as she was barely in any fit state to battle the flight of stairs that led to her chambers last night. To make his point, he had taken to casually pacing the full length of the grand hall, stopping short of her Circle inspired throne before turning back to do it again, messengers bringing him his reports and conducting his morning business as he did so._ _

__His pacing didn’t stop him from taking in the sight of her though._ _

__The light of the stained glass windows shined off of her dark chocolate waves, normally woven and confined with her hair comb and pins, fell loose and lovely to her hips. Her alabaster skin glowed in the morning light, barely a sign of the little pale freckles he noticed on the bridge of her nose last night, but he could see those clear hunter green eyes from a mile away. They were her most astonishing feature, framed by her long dark lashes, always so intense and full of her admirable determination. She had chosen to wear Circle inspired robes as opposed to her usual layers of shirt, jacket, and enchanters coat. The skirt of her robes were charcoal in color and flowed around her feet like water, the bodice a pale soft gray suede and lined and embroidered with gold piping, snowy white fur flowing along the hem._ _

__As those eyes found him halfway down the great hall he couldn’t help but nod his head in greeting, letting a smile touch his lips._ _

__Cullen watched her as she marched by with Josephine and a gaggle of messengers, catching those stunning eyes of hers only a moment before, surprisingly, she turned away. Lady Trevelyan’s spine went rigid as she allowed the small swarm of messengers and nobles that he had kept at bay to sweep her away down the grand hall, Josephine leading the mob._ _

__He didn’t like the ache that tightened in his chest with her lack of acknowledgement, but he could understand. There was work to be done, the plans for the Masquerade coming together quickly, but she would have to return his cloak eventually. Cullen would savor that moment when it came, watch for that blush that crept up from beneath her collar.  
Taking his cue from the Inquisitor he moved back toward his office, to collect his papers and plans to propose it at the war table._ _

__\--------------------------------------------  
Marie was beyond mortified, and having him with that half smile directed unashamedly right at her, she had to hide the fresh flush in her cheeks and get straight to work. Work, any work, all work that avoided the war room and anywhere Cullen might be. She couldn’t think about it, about him. She was so engrossed in finding and completing any busywork that she could get her hands on that she didn’t even notice when Dorian strutted up to her as she cut through the grand hall._ _

__“Hiding isn’t going to help you, sweetheart.” Startled, Marie dropped what she was carrying, a slew of crafting supplies for potion work in the undercroft, glass shattering against the stone as she swore loudly like he had scared the daylight out of her, small arcs of uncontrolled light bouncing between her fingers._ _

__“Maker’s breath, Dorian!” Marie squeaked quietly, like no one had heard her just drop everything at the sauntering Tevinter’s approach. He was smiling wickedly, like he was privy to all of her secret inner thoughts, knew what had been fluttering through her mind all morning as he tugged playfully at his moustache._ _

__“I didn’t imagine I would ever surprise you, Inquisitor.” Dorian replied saucily. “But then, I never imagined you getting swept away by our deliciously dashing Commander in the dead of night. Enjoyed your evening, I take it?”_ _

__“Why- you- hush!” Marie stammered before commanding him to quiet, blushing furiously. Her panic only seemed to increase with Dorian’s casual stance, the way he seemed nonplussed by what she couldn’t remember. If he saw what happened, that means others saw what happened. The snap of static was palpable as her willpower threatened to crumble._ _

__“Why hush him? Curly had you all wrapped up in his arms and carried you to your room after you wandered off. We all saw it. A bit cliché, but that's Curly.” Varric added, walking over to join the ever awkward conversation, having wandered over from his table by the fireplace. “You should’ve seen him prowling the hall this morning, commanded that the lady not be woken and left to rest.”_ _

__“Varric, please.” Marie begged. “Please, stop-“_ _

__“He was quite fierce in his pacing, to make sure you got up at your own leisure. I’m surprised you’re not walking bow legged.” Dorian teased, but she couldn’t handle it anymore. The teasing was too much. The thought of it all was just too much. She had to make her escape now before-_ _

__“Maker preserve me, if you keep this up you will both be talking with a permanent stutter by the time I'm through. I have work to do, I suggest you leave me to it.” Marie snapped, abandoning her scattered and broken materials and fleeing to the undercroft._ _

__Dagna and Herritt were down below, arguing back and forth over the shaping of a particular piece of armor, so Marie was glad to have the lack of attention for a moment. There were also several large metal objects to act as lightning rods should any of her power leak out. Going through the available ingredients, since she dropped some of what she needed on the floor of the hall, she would just have to make do with what she had. Marie distractedly started adding ingredients together, not paying attention to the result._ _

__Busywork. Lots of busywork. But now she wondered what had happened if Cullen had been the one who carried her to her room as Varric had said, and not one of those who had been drinking with her. Dorian had seen. Maker knew who else had seen. Marie pause to look into the contents of the flask in her hands; what was at the bottom of that unfortunate flask she might save for Dorian, for all his teasing. She might even charge it with some of her potent electricity, lace it with some thunder for an added bit of kick-in-the-ass._ _

__What if Cullen approached her? She had no idea what she would say. 'I’m sorry Commander, but I can’t remember; I had so much to drink last night because they wouldn’t stop taunting me about you. Care to refresh my memory?'_ _

__And then there was the ever-present fear that things could go horridly and irrevocably wrong, that he could turn on her, shatter what was left of her._ _

__It would be better to just deal with it before it got out of hand, Marie thought, trying to concentrate on mixing those sad ingredients together and failing even further. Best to cauterize a bleeding wound than to let it fester. Dropping what she was doing, giving up on that whole potion-making endeavor with a loud huff, she girded herself and strode out of the undercroft, heading for her quarters. There she collected Cullen’s cloak, folding it over her arms, had to gird herself yet again just for the courage to stride through the castle with it and not actively spark, and made a bee line for his office. So why was she so scared?_ _

__The inevitable rejection, she realized, of being hurt. There was always what she was, what she would always be, and how she had always been seen; a Mage, the Sin of House Trevelyan, an _abomination_. Marie would endure it, she would build her walls higher and stronger and not let anyone in and remain steadfast and unflinching in her solitude, to protect that little bubble of squashed fear hidden in her inner storm and shattered Self. Before she knew it, she was standing just outside of his office, her mouth having gone dry with fear and anticipation somewhere along the way. Shaking beneath her steel clad resolve, Marie lightly knocked on the tower door._ _

__\-----------------------------------------  
Cullen was in his office, his eyes scanning over the map of Orlais that Marie’s face had been on the night before. He was having a hard time concentrating on getting all of his thoughts together, much less the plans he wanted to lay out at the war table. Cullen couldn’t get the image of Lady Trevelyan out of his head, the sound of her voice, the grace of her chanter’s stride, the way her chocolate hair fell down her shoulders to settle at her hips. _ _

__His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on his door, Marie peeking her head inside timidly._ _

__“I hope I’m not interrupting.” She said, entering with his cloak folded and draped over her arms._ _

__“Yes, I mean no! No, you’re not interrupting.” Cullen stammered, trying to not scare her off. Maker’s breath, he didn’t want her to run from him because he was stuttering like an idiot._ _

__“I came to bring this back to you.” She said, holding out the cloak with both arms outstretched, looking down and to the right again, her cheeks flushing pink ._ _

__“I see.” He said, relishing that blush. "Thank you, my lady."_ _

__“And I was wondering if you had a moment to talk... alone?”_ _

__Cullen’s heart fluttered nervously, taking the cloak from her hands and taking the moment to put it back on. No one had mentioned the fact that he wasn’t wearing it today, but considering how many people saw that he had wrapped Marie in it and carried her up to her room, it shouldn’t have been all that surprising. The rumors had already spread like a blight through the barracks._ _

__“Alone? I mean, of course.”_ _

__She probably was going to ask him to cease his attentions, he thought. Cullen didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to hear her speak of Dorian aloud, even though he knew it was coming. He hardly deserved her, couldn’t bring himself to think that he did, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t wish for it with all of his being. It was only a dream, he told himself. It didn’t belong in reality._ _

__He could only think of one place where they could be at least considered alone enough to talk, where few enough eyes and ears would be on them. So he motioned for her to follow him, his cloak fluttering in the icy afternoon breeze as they walked toward the far side of the battlements._ _

__“It’s… a nice day.” He said with an nervous laugh._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“I’m sorry, there was something you wished to discuss?” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, receiving a small smile from Lady Trevelyan._ _

__“Cullen, I…” Marie paused, her smile fading as she looked out over the battlements, loose chocolate waves dancing in the high mountain air. “I’m sorry Commander, I don’t know how to say this…”_ _

__She was usually so meticulous about her hair, seeing it free and unbound, framing her face and shoulders, made him want to reach out and brush the stands away from her astounding hunter eyes. The silence stretched on a while as she bit at her lip, unable to make eye contact with him._ _

__Yes, he saw this coming._ _

__“Inquisitor, I-” He started as she inhaled sharply and cut him off._ _

__“-Cullen I’ve come to… care for you and… uh….” She said hurriedly, wringing her fingers mercilessly. “Sweet Maker, this is harder than I thought…” Marie stood rigid, braced as it seemed for rejection, her hunter eyes finally finding him and locking him in place with their fragile intensity. “I know you left the Templars but… could you ever… well… care for me?”_ _

__“Of course I can, I mean, I do!” He blurted out in his stunned surprise, realizing it was out before he could stop it._ _

__“Even though I’m a Mage?”_ _

___Mage_. Cullen could see the fear leak between the cracks of her fortress of sheer will, the distance she was ready to put between them at his word. Her radiance, her determination, her staggering beauty could barely stand against the weight of what she was, and he could see again the hint of the underlying damage, the broken woman beneath her alabaster façade. _ _

__As if realizing he saw her weakness, Marie looked away and set her eyes on the horizon, somewhere not on him, placing a delicate hand on the stone of one of the walls crenels._ _

__“I understand that what we are defines any relationship we might have-” Marie stopped herself, thinking over the words that were struggling to get out, her frustration evident in her speech as her brows furrowed angrily. “Templars cannot fraternize with Mages, I know that, but I… could you think of me as anything more?”_ _

__“I could, I mean I do… think of you… And what I might say in this sort of situation.” He said as he started to pace, rubbing his neck nervously as his heart started to pound in earnest. Was this really happening? Did the Inquisitor really just declare she had feelings for him?_ _

__Marie looked back at him again, placing both hands on the crenel, fitting easily between the parapets of the outer wall as she leaned back against the stone, the faintest hint of a shy smile touching at the corners of her lips._ _

__“Then… what’s stopping you?” Those startling hunter eyes were on him again, less wary than before, watching his reaction carefully._ _

__“You’re the Inquisitor, we’re at war, and you… I didn’t think it was possible.” Cullen said as he gave her a much more confident smile. She responded with one of her own as he moved closer to her, Marie pressing back further against the stone, almost as if to brace herself. Still fragile, still wary, yet more open, accepting, hopeful, the walls she had built starting to weaken._ _

__“Yet here I am, hoping I’m not making a fool of myself.” She said softly._ _

__“So you are.” Cullens’ voice dropped lower as he came closer, the words more personal, only for her. He could see those pale little freckles on the bridge of her nose, the softening intensity of her hunter eyes and the gentle parting of her lips. His fingertips brushed the stone beside her hands, leaning in closer, smelling rosewood and sage on her robes. “It seems too much to ask, but I want to-”_ _

__“Commander!” Sergeant Jim. Of course, it had to be Jim._ _

__He was less than an inch away, so close to touching her lips with his, that Marie had turned away in embarrassment, and he snarled as he turned to face Sergeant Jim, who had dared interrupt. Cullen could practically feel Marie slam the walls tight around herself, closing him off to protect that glimmer of hope she had shown him._ _

__“You wanted a copy of sister Leliana’s report.”_ _

__“What?” He growled, the clueless idiot carrying a report, finally looking up from the blighted paper to hold it out to him._ _

__“Sister Leliana’s report. You wanted it delivered ‘without delay.’”_ _

__Cullen didn’t even give him the benefit of words, glaring at Jim with open hostility for interrupting a moment he had been looking for, hoping for, and now-_ _

Sergeant Jim finally realized that Cullen wasn’t alone, that the Inquisitor was trying to recover from the interruption, his eyes going wide. 

“Or… to your office… right...” He had backed away cautiously, fleeing for the door as soon as he had felt there was enough distance between him and the Commander. 

__Cullen waited for the man to make a full retreat before turning back to Marie, who had just barely recovered her well-practiced wall of calm and was now poised to flee herself, her hands folded in front of her, her posture straightened and unable to look at him._ _

__“Cullen, if you-“_ _

__He didn’t even give her the chance, grasping on to her like a drowning man and passionately kissing away his frustration with that interruption, holding her head in his hands and not giving her the moment to flee as he darted his tongue into her mouth, tasting a hint of blackberries as his blood hummed through his veins. The static snapped off of his armor as Marie gasped in surprise, her hands flying apart and hanging in the air a moment before they found fistfuls of his furry mantle to hold on to._ _

__The kiss didn’t last long, sweet and delicious as it was, Cullen breaking away as his face heated with his own embarrassment._ _

__“I’m sorry… That was… um… really nice.” He stuttered softly, still holding her head in his hands, more gently now that he had seized his moment._ _

__Marie smiled, biting her lip as she looked up into his eyes through her long lashes and gathered her words to respond._ _

__“That went better than I thought it would.”_ _

__Cullen laughed._ _

__“Yes, well…” He leaned in and kissed her again, this time letting her lean up on her toes to meet him, shy and timid, but wanting; the exact opposite of her public self._ _

__After an eternity of her soft, exploratory kisses, she did pull away. Not much, but just enough to put a few inches of distance between their bodies. Cullen didn’t want that distance there, not now, but he understood her need for space. There was something broken in there, something gently pieced back together and fiercely protected, and by the Maker, he would protect it too if it meant he could kiss her again._ _

__“About last night…” Marie started, blushing furiously all of a sudden. “I know nothing happened, you know… between us but I, um… I can’t remember a thing.”_ _

__“I… oh.” Cullen stammered, rubbing his neck nervously. “Honestly, I haven’t heard the end of it. You’d be surprised how fast rumors spread through the barracks.” Marie’s rich laughter made his stomach flutter._ _

__“So… what did I do?” She asked, still shy, looking a little uncomfortable as she started to walk. He smiled as he turned to follow her, his heart trampling all over his ribcage as she gently reached out and hooked one of her fingers in his. Acknowledgement, acceptance, a little ray of hope wrapped around his finger. He ignored the feint spark he felt through his glove, reacquainting himself with the feel of her finger around his._ _

__Cullen couldn’t help but grin like a fool, chuckling as Marie’s hunter eyes softened on him as she smiled. She would undo him with that smile._ _

__“Well, it started before you fell asleep on Orlais…”_ _

__There was the sound of a horn, blown twice, the signal that there were incoming friendly riders to Skyhold. Cullen and Marie both moved toward the wall, peering through the parapets to look down over the bridge, a dozen mounted knights and a pair of covered wagons, their black, gray, and gold heraldry flying proud against the stark white of the mountains as well as the flaming sword of the Templar Order._ _

__"Templars." Cullen said, turning to look at Marie and finding her expression grim._ _

__"To the castle, Commander." She said darkly, releasing his hand to fold hers in front of her, resuming her chanter's posture. "The Knight-Commander has arrived."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra long chapter, just for the first kiss! Talk about slow, it just took me twenty chapters to get to this point.


	21. The Champion of the Just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Edward Trevelyan makes his entrance, and what he does is unexpected.

Marie’s heart had been pounding in her chest already, butterflies fluttering about the knots in her stomach, her blood still thrumming beneath her skin when the horn had sounded an approach. She could still feel the prickle of Cullen’s stubble, the pressure of his gloved hands on her face from that first kiss, the hand on her waist from the following ones. 

Her blood had run cold when she saw the Heraldry of House Trevelyan, the rearing gray and gold stallion on a black field, the storm within stirring and straining further against her weakened walls. She had turned to Cullen, seeing the heraldry of the Templars, and she was surprised to see a crease of worry form between his brow, his honey-hued eyes hardening as she said to him; “To the castle, Commander. The Knight-Commander has arrived.”

“Yes, Inquisitor.” He said, all remnants of his smile gone as he was once again her Commander, all professional decorum, not the man who had tasted of her lips just moments ago.

“Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder.” Marie chanted, securing her inner walls for a different battle, a meeting she had been dreading ever since Carver told her he was coming.

The courtyard was alive with the arrival of a dozen knights, mostly Templars, a pair of covered wagons laden with supplies, and several squires and soldiers from the Free Marches. As she descended the stairs to the lower courtyard, knowing that Cullen had followed down behind her, she could see that Josephine had come out to greet her new guests, all Antivan charm and smiles. 

Marie could almost taste the lyrium as she breathed, the anti-magic fields that numbed the air and made her skin crawl in warning, even as she watched the man on the gray high-stepping feather footed stallion at the head. Cullen descended into the lower courtyard as she had climbed the stairs up toward the entrance to the castle, standing like a statue on the landing overlooking the lower courtyard, piecing together her strategy on how to approach the uncle she hadn’t seen in seven years.

“Lady Marie.” Carver, taking up his position beside her, warning her that he was there as he leaned against his Enchanter’s staff. 

“Carver.” She replied.

Knight-Commander Edward removed his helm, handing it down to his squire, his piercing hunter green Trevelyan eyes finding her on the landing. Time had been kind to a man of his years, his once dark hair more silver than that dark chocolate that ran in their family, his beard a rival for Blackwall’s, square trimmed just as she remembered. Although he had retired from the Order seven years ago now, Marie could see the fine detail of swords of mercy paired with the Trevelyan stallions on his pauldrons and breastplate. With a flourish of his riding cloak, he dismounted from his Free Marches ranger, the man still nimble, still as large as a blighted bear, still as intimidating as the last day she had seen him.

Josephine stood at Edward’s armored shoulder, which came as no surprise to Marie, and the Inquisitions ambassador started her introduction.

“It is an honor, Knight-Commander…” Josephine’s voice carried from below as she watched the Templars, light webbing between her clenched fingers as she began to shake. Fear? Rage? Marie couldn’t say as to which. There were more of them than she thought there would be, and these Templars didn’t come to the Inquisition as the others had, the few that felt that the cause was right, that what they were doing here was just. These Templars followed Edward, who under her father’s direction, were here to position themselves to potentially control her.

“Come, Carver. We should receive our guests properly.” Marie said through gritted teeth, holding on desperately to the chant, plastering the walls of her inner fortress with all of that anger, her eyes wandering to Cullen, directing the wagons and ordering space prepared in the watch tower the few remaining Templars of the Inquisition were staying in.

Warmth, it tingled over her skin just as the anger had. Fluttery, faint, something distinctly and wonderfully hers to hold on to, even if it may have be fleeting.  
Marie descended the stairs, her hands folded neatly in front of her belly, holding on to that fragile warmth as she moved within range of the Knight-Commander’s anti-magic field, Edward’s Templar’s turning as Marie’s feral magic responded, calling to them.

“Stand down, you’ve already been briefed on this.” Edward said with a raise of his hand, interrupting Josephine as he turned towards Marie. She remembered the tenor of that voice, the command that it carried, how hard it was not to curtsy demurely and skitter away. He had been her keeper for most of her life, the needle on her moral compass as Godwin had been her North, the Templar she had compared all others to as a Champion of the Just.

“Welcome to Skyhold, Knight-Commander.” Marie said, keeping her head held high, posture rigid, making an effort to pry her teeth apart so that she could speak clearly. 

“Former Knight-Commander, Inquisitor. Ser Edward will do just fine in this situation. Unless you would prefer I call you Apprentice Marie?” Edward replied, towering over her as she ground her teeth, Cullen looking to Edward with some confusion.

“No, Sir Edward. I am the leader of the Inquisition, not some Circle apprentice.” Marie replied, dead-pan. “Lady Montilyet will see that you are settled in to your quarters and give you a tour of Skyhold. Once you’re settled, we can discuss what you can do for the cause.”

Edward smiled as he gave her a small bow, as much of a concession of rank for a Templar to a Mage he could allow himself to give.

“As you wish, Lady Inquisitor. There is much for us to discuss.” 

“That, Uncle, I do not doubt.”

\--------------------------------  
Cullen had watched their interaction cautiously, trying to ignore the ache in his bones and the shakiness in his hands as he could practically taste the lyrium radiating from Ser Edward and those Templars he had brought with them. They must have dosed themselves prior to the final climb to Skyhold, armed to the teeth and prepared for anything. In their position he would have done the same; the Inquisition had taken into their fold the entirety of the Mage Rebellion, their Inquisitor a very vocal advocate for their cause who had stood fearlessly on the front lines of that war, the woman tailor-made to combat Templars. 

Lady Trevelyan, with Enchanter Carver in tow, strode with her Chanter’s grace into the castle after hissing her pleasantries through semi-clenched teeth, and he couldn’t help but watch her, still tasting blackberries on his lips, heart still stuttering over what had happened on the walls. 

Sir Edward, with the same intense hunter eyes as Lady Marie, caught him watching, one brow raised. He had not expected the man to be so tall, a silvered old bear with the good fortune to still have complete control of his mind, obviously still taking the lyrium that gave him his strength. A former Knight-Commander like Cullen, which led him to wonder; if Edward was still of sound mind and body, after so many years of devoted service to the Chantry, why did he leave the Order?

Josephine had led Sir Edward out of the courtyard as Master Dennett had taken their horses to cool them, Cullen busying himself with making sure that the Templars Edward had brought knew where they would be housed before returning to his office and the work he had abandoned. 

Cullen didn’t see Lady Marie again until their meeting at the war table, and to his surprise Ser Edward had been allowed to enter that inner sanctum, escorted by Cassandra. Lady Marie kept a good distance from the former Knight-Commander, her hands poised over her belly, waiting patiently even as her magic thrummed through the room, like a pacing feral beast, ready to strike. The Seeker did not hide her protective glare, but Edward seemed to be ignoring it as his own anti-magic aura warred against Marie, his hand balanced on the pommel of his sword and his helm tucked under his other arm, his sharp hunter eyes scanning the map spread out on the table the same way Lady Marie’s had the first time he had been introduced to her at Haven, intense and deliberate. 

As Cassandra formally introduced the Inquisitions Advisors, Edward inspected Leliana with a nod, gave Josephine a polite bow, and found himself under his scrutinizing stare as the man harrumphed at him.

Maker preserve him, their similarities were frighteningly uncanny.

“Now would be the time to tell them why you’re here, Edward.” Lady Marie said, her tone hostile, her sharp eyes on the table, placing a hand gently on the map.

“I take it that they know what you are then, Butterfly?” Edward said calmly.

“Don’t call me that.” Marie said through clenched teeth.

“We are aware, Sir Edward.” Leliana answered. “All of us here as well as those members of the inner circle are aware of the Inquisitor’s _Vis Naturae_.”

“Does that mean you have taken steps to aid in controlling it, Commander?” Edward asked as he looked to Cullen, earning a snarl from Lady Marie. It was the same snarl she gave when Leliana and Josephine had mentioned the invitation to the Winter Palace.

Cullen scowled. “The Inquisitor will not be inhibited within her own-” 

“-This is not the Ostwick Circle, I do not need to be controlled!” She responded, her face starting to redden from anger. 

“There is no Ostwick Circle because you weren’t controlled.” Edward replied calmly. Marie went rigid as if she had been struck, light arcing between her fingers and shivering up her arms, clenching her fists at her side as her face paled. “But then, if I hadn’t caved to the Order’s wishes, the Annulment would never have been allowed and perhaps the Circle would have remained intact. By forcing my retirement, putting that puppet Henric in my place, the Order turned you into exactly what they feared you would become. Godwin he... they made a fine weapon out of you, Butterfly.”

Lady Marie, with her pale fists still clenched at her side, shoulders back and defiant, unyielding, indomitable, the air prickling dangerously as he felt all feral energy turn inward, her voice deadly soft. “I followed him, yes… but Godwin did not make me what I am. I became what was needed then, as I’ve become what is needed now.”

“And what is needed of you now, Inquisitor? What have you become for the good of Thedas?” Sir Edward asked, his tenor rising to the tone of a commander, Lady Marie straightening further in response, the Inquisition's rebel queen rising to the challenge. 

“I am the only one who can seal the rifts, so I must seal them. I am the only one who dares stand as rival to Corypheus. I have become their Herald by circumstance just as I’ve become their leader by deed and, Maker preserve me, I will be their monster too if so required.”

Sir Edward removed his helm from under his arm, placing it on the war table without breaking eye contact with Lady Marie, unsheathing his sword with the fluidity of decades. Cullen was drawing his own sword as everything slowed, the Inquisitor’s magic shivering through the stone as it made his blood pound in an all too familiar way, the Spymaster readying herself to spring over the war table, Cassandra half way through unsheathing her own blade.

The point of Edward’s sword touched the stone, the former Knight-Commander bending knee to the Mage that lead the Inquisition, allowing his anti-magic field to dissipate and let Marie's magic swirl unchallenged throughout the war room.

“Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.” Sir Edward chanted, everyone in that room freezing in place as Lady Marie let out a shuddering breath. Cullen hadn’t realized that she had been holding it as Edward continued. “Inquisitor, I am your sword and your shield. I swear myself to your service before the eyes of the Maker and those present, that I will champion your cause on any field, in any battle.”

“Edward, I... I don’t understand…” Marie replied, sounding skeptical, confused. "I thought you were here to..."

"No Marie, I am not here to cage you. I am here to serve." Edward replied. "If there comes a time when I am needed in that capacity, I will be at your call."

There were many things that passed unsaid between them, Sir Edward still down on his knee, Lady Marie looking down on him with her fists clenched and ready to strike. It seemed an eternity before the humming began to fade, that the demand of her magic started to dissipate and the ache in his bones began to return, Cullen sheathing his sword as her hands relaxed and folded together carefully at her waist.

"Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just." Lady Marie said, finishing the line of the chant that Edward had left unsaid. "Welcome to the Inquisition, Uncle."

\---------------------------------  
Marie's mind was reeling. 

Cassandra had escorted Edward from the war room, her uncle plucking his commander's helm from the table before saluting with it, his Templar aura completely absent from the room. Out of anyone alive, Edward was the only one who knew how to combat her. Much of what she had learned of how to fight a Templar in close quarters combat she had learned from him. It was only outside of the confines of the Circle that she had learn to use it in tandem with her _Cor Procellam_ , to mix pure elements of the fade with her barriers, to sunder a man into bits of gristle and bone.

Leliana and Josephine left after briefly covering important tasks required for their upcoming march through the Emprise, Cullen laying out the routes and supply lines that would be necessary to make it through to the Winter Palace, but they saw that Marie's thoughts were elsewhere rather quickly.

Leaning against the war table, Marie pieced through Edward's words one section at a time, looking for their meaning, his intent. He didn't command to have her watched, didn't move to take matters into his own hands. He knew, the sly old bear, he knew what would happen if he forced it; Marie would kill them all. He had had the gall to bring up Ostwick, and then he took part of the blame upon his own wizened shoulders. He had asked her what she would do for the Inquisition, challenged her, and she had responded to him honestly; she would become their monster. He had been calm and methodical in every word, motion, and thought. She had barely restrained her anger, the rage that stirred the storm. 

And not once did he mention her father, of what was expected of her.

"Are you alright?"

The warm tone of his voice surprised her, setting her heart scrambling through her chest as she realized that Cullen hadn't left yet. Warm, golden haired and handsome, her skin prickling at the memory of their first kiss, her cheeks growing warm as her eyes fell on the scar that curled up from his lip.

"It's been an exhausting day." Marie replied, still leaning against the war table, afraid to remove her hands. At least if she was touching it, she was grounded and not arcing.

"It will not be the last, I'm afraid." Cullen said as he came casually around from his side of the table, hands perched on the pommel of his sword. "There is still much more work to be done."

"There will always be work to be done." Marie replied, Cullen just a few feet away from her now as she straightened herself, folding her hands together and actively trying not to wring her fingers nervously. "Thank you for defending me, Cullen. It did not go unnoticed."

"Yes, well I, uh... your welcome." He said as he turned his honey-hued eyes away, one arm reaching up to rub the back of his neck. 

Marie bit her lip, trying her best to pull the residual energy inward as she gathered her courage, stepping close enough to reach out and touch the hand that still sat balanced on her sword. There was only a small arc that touched his gauntlet as their hands touched, a tiny flash of light that went unnoticed as Cullen looked back at her.

"I meant what I said on the wall." Marie said softly, Cullen taking his hand from his neck to place it over hers.

"As did I." He said, low and soft, just for her.

Marie didn't hesitate this time as she leaned up on her toes and their lips met, her hand reaching to caress his cheek, savoring the prickle of his stubble against he fingers, her skin. 

"Are you sure you want this?" She asked, and sweet Maker that laugh, that skin tingling chuckle, hummed right through her as he pressed his forehead against hers and smiled.

"Do you have to ask?"


	22. Nightmare of Mercy

_Doors slammed open in the distance, echoing off of inner stone walls. She couldn’t move her hands, locked between metal fingers, the sounds of cutting sadness, sobbing in her hair._

_Carefully lain rules, carelessly broken._

_The hiss of metal leaving a leather sheath caressed her as the screams began to rise to their crescendo, the Chantry pulsing and faded, blood slithering from beneath the door. The metal fingers gripped her, steel arms held her, the pain that slipped between her ribs as a whisper broke her heart._

_“Maker forgive me…”_

_LIAR!_

_The smell of burning flesh tickled her nose…_

…and Marie lurched up from her bed, gasping as she gripped her side, feeling the knot if scar tissue beneath her fingers as a ragged sob tore free from her chest, light sparking and arcing all around her. Her stomach, deciding on open rebellion as the phantom stench of cooking human flesh lingered, forced her over the side of the bed to wretch up what little was inside her. Her nightgown was damp with sweat as she shook and gripped the covers, her head hanging over the edge as concerned feet opened her door and scrambled up the stairs.

“I’m fine!” Marie said, her voice harsh through her sobs. It had been like this for the past week as she prepared for Halamshiral, their trek to the Winter Palace only a scant few days away. With the fitting for her formal attire, her secluded dance lessons with Dorian in the wine cellar, Leliana's live-or-die course on the Orlesian court, it was rare that she got enough time to catch a few hours of sleep. Edward’s arrival had brought the memories of Ostwick screaming back into her nightmares with a vengeance when she did finally find her eyes closing, and now that she had woken practically hysterical each morning from them, and to her dismay word had gotten out through the serving staff. Marie had already asked Leliana to keep it quiet, not needing the faithful to hear that their Herald suffered from horrid recurring nightmares.

When she gathered enough willpower to force herself to sit up, her legs hanging over the edge of the bed, she looked to see that her newly appointed guard was already gone; it would only be a short amount of time before she was no longer alone.

Stepping over the sick on the rug, still shaking as she reached her dressing gown and slipped it on over her nightgown, she heard the feet coming back up the stairs as she shuffled to the washbasin and splashed water on her face, light arcing between her hands and the water.

“Passing out of the world, in that Void shall they wander; O unrepentant, faithless, treacherous…” Marie chanted, bolstering her inner walls around the tendrils of the storm that managed to leak free.

As had become the norm for that week, several servants came up the stairs to clean and bring her tonics, Dorian coming up shortly after them in barely anything more than his pants and linen sleeping shirt, disheveled as if he had rolled straight out of bed.

“And here I thought I might actually get to wake up at a normal time this morning.” Dorian said as he walked past her to the partition that blocked the copper tub from view. With a wave of his hand he warmed the water, moving gingerly about the servant cleaning the rug as Marie took one of the tonics and tossed it down her throat, still chanting.

“I’m sorry.” She croaked, giving the serving girl a smile of thanks before handing her the flask. “I’ll ask Josephine to find you some candied dates for your efforts.”

“When my supply runs low, I’ll be sure to remember that.” He said, shooing the serving girl out just as the other was finishing with her clean up. Marie moved behind the partition, removing her dressing gown and draping it over the top, doing the same with her long nightgown as she shivered through more lines of the chant, slipping into the copper tub to wash off the sweat from her nightmares. “Was it the Circle again sweetheart?”

Marie sank into the water as her stomach grumbled in protest, the tonic doing its job and keeping her from heaving. “Yes.” She said, her fingers finding the hard lump on her ribs again. It was not her only scar, but it was the first, the one that was meant as a mercy but doomed the Templars of Ostwick. 

“I’ll leave you to get cleaned up.” He said, knowing that she didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to dredge up those memories to relive them yet again. “I’m off to make myself presentable, can’t be the best dressed mage in the Inquisition if I’m hardly clothed. I'll return with breakfast.”

"Actually, Dorian..." Marie called out as he sauntered towards the stairs. "I want to take my breakfast in the garden."

"Taking the initiative, I see." Dorian said as she heard his feet on the stairs. "I'll inform the kitchen staff."

Marie waited for the soft click of the door before washing herself in earnest, reinforcing her inner walls as she chanted, scrubbing her alabaster skin raw. 

\----------------------------------------------  
Sir Edward had beaten Cullen to the training field every morning since his arrival, still holding to the strict schedule of a Templar Commander even in his twilight years, putting his decades of experience to immediate use. The former Knight-Commander had slipped effortlessly into the role of a captain, many of the Inquisition’s soldiers following his commands without question, deferring to his air of authority without so much as a pause. In their position he would be hard pressed not to follow, the man carried himself with the same dignity as the Inquisitor, the same indomitable presence. 

“Report.” Cullen said to him, one brow raised over his intense hunter eyes as Sir Edward looked down at him. If he was going to behave like a captain, Cullen was going to treat him like one.

“I’ve divided my men up to better instruct this sorry lot on how to use a shield to actually block something other than daylight.” Edward replied. “The Maker surely smiles upon the foolish, as that is the only way this lot has survived this long.”

“That is due in no small part to the Inquisitor.” Cullen said. “This is also a volunteer army, so we have precious few professional soldiers.” 

“Why is it that you don’t have the mages down here?” Edward asked, balancing his hands on the pommel of his sword. “If they are to be best utilized against the Red Templars, they should at least have a basic understanding on how to defend themselves.”

“Most mages can set a city on fire in a fit of pique.” Cullen replied, and again Edward raised an eyebrow at him. “And I can’t force them to train outside of their tower. They are full allies of the Inquisition, not conscripted soldiers.”

“And they can set fire to an army when given purpose and training. Let me give you an analogy… mages are like swords.” Edward said as he gestured with his hands. “They can be sharp and deadly in the right hands, but untempered they are still fragile. Certainly, like swords, they can defend, but without that tempering, they will shatter with enough applied force. Temper that blade, strengthen it, and no longer are you armed with brittle weapons, but steel as strong as any Templar blade. Many of the mages here are already tempered to some degree, some are of finer quality than others of course, but they can benefit from some added sharpening. ”

“The Inquisitor might find your analogy insulting, Sir Edward.” Cullen said, but understanding in his gut what the former Knight-Commander was saying. 

“You are doing the same with these farmers and pilgrims, turning them into soldiers for the Inquisition.” He continued as a few messengers came by, handing Cullen their reports as the two commanders began to walk the lines of sparring soldiers. 

“And how might you train a mage? They are not like farmers and pilgrims, they already are dangerous by nature of what they are.” Cullen asked, flipping through one of the requisitions lists before looking back to Sir Edward.

“The same way I trained Marie.” He replied. 

“You taught a mage in the Circle how to defend herself against Templars?” Cullen almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but images of Haven came to mind, the Chanter’s stride that shifted to her predators gait, her brutal efficiency in close quarters. No mage could have taught her how to stand toe-to-toe with a trained Templar Knight.

“Don’t look at me like that, Commander. You know what she is. You’ve heard the song.” Sir Edward said, his silver brows furrowed over those intense hunter eyes. “It was hand-to-hand combat training, which she happened to excel in. It was meant for her to defend herself until myself or one of the other Knights could come to her aid. What was made of that training once the Circle fell is on Godwin's shoulders.” He sighed, his eyes scanning the lines of recruits as his voice lowered. “I must admit though, it made it easier to track where she had been. There was no missing the evidence of her on those battlefields.”

_The shudder of the Red Templar's body before it exploded, the fine red mist that filled the air and coated the Herald in blood, the torn bits of flesh, bone, and gristle that had splattered all over her and those surrounding her, turning the snow pink._

“And you want to train others to do what she does?” Cullen asked, pushing that image to the back of her mind.

“No other mage can do what Marie does.” Edward replied. “She will be, as she has always been, unique.” 

Other words came to Cullen’s mind to describe Lady Marie; beautiful, brilliant, fearless, graceful. Unique? Yes, indeed she was. 

"Indeed." Cullen replied, realizing that Sir Edward was waiting for him to reply, had noticed his pause and that silver brow raised at him yet again. "I, uh, I'll speak to the Inquisitor about it. I can't make a decision without her approval."

"I see." Sir Edward said, one hand raising to pull on his impressive square trimmed beard. 

"Commander, a word?" Cullen turned to the sound of her voice, Marie approaching with her graceful chanter's stride, her hands folded delicately at he waist. Her dark chocolate hair was braided over one shoulder, wisps of stray waves framing her face, her glorious hunter eyes bright in the early morning sunlight. Dressed in her Enchanters coat, buttoned high against the cold, she crossed the training field and past incoming and outgoing messengers, nodding to those who saluted her and bowed as she passed.

"Yes, Inquisitor?" He asked, giving one last look to Edward before turning his complete attention to her.

"I was, um..." She paused, looking around as her cheeks flushed pink. "I was wondering if you've had breakfast yet?"

"No, I haven't." He said, watching her shuffle her feet ever so slightly, fighting the smile that wanted to slip free.

"Then if you have some time, I'd like it if you, uh... joined me in the garden." 

"Yes, of course." Cullen did his best not to stammer, giving up the fight as he gave her a smile. "Wait for me?"

Marie smiled, giving him a small demure curtsy before turning back toward the castle. Their courtship was still so new, still fragile and awkward that he could only claim a handful of moments as his own, short lived blackberry kisses and her fingers finding his. 

"I see." Edward said again, Cullen scowling at him. 

"Don't hold back. The recruits must be prepared for a real fight, not a practice one." He said to Edward, turning on his heel and walking away from the Templar.

"Yes, Commander." Sir Edward replied, his hands both balanced on the pommel of his sword again as his intense hunter eyes watched him.

\-------------------------------------------  
Marie sat nervously at the stone table situated inside of the stone pavilion, nibbling at a biscuit spread with her favorite blackberry jam and butter. There were a few people milling about the gardens this early, some of the herbalists collecting the morning cuttings to help with the ever increasing demand. Her fade-touched heart fluttered nervously inside her chest, but she didn't feel the pressure of the storm, just the pressure of the eyes of those in the garden, of waiting for Cullen. 

Marie saw him enter the garden from the far side, the light shining golden off of his hair, his Templar swagger bringing him to the stone pavilion where she waited for him, one hand balanced on the pommel of his sword as his other hand rubbed the back of his neck. It was rather charming.

"Have a seat, Commander." Marie said with a smile, gesturing to the seat across from her and the platter of food that Dorian had put together for her. The clever Tevinter had made sure that there was enough for two, adding a pair of apples and some soft cheese to her biscuits, jam, and cold cuts. "I thought that maybe we could, um... spend more time together, like we had talked about. Even if it's just something small like, well... breakfast."

He chuckled, her skin prickling at the sound as he sat down, taking one of the apples and a knife from the platter. 

"This was... unexpected." He replied, slicing a piece of apple and taking a bite. "We should do this more often. Next time I can bring my board and we can play over breakfast."

"I'd like that." Marie said, smiling brightly before sipping her tea. "I know with the war it might not happen very often, but... Godwin used to say that, if you truly want something, you find the time to make it happen." Marie felt her cheeks flush as he smiled at her, that charming lopsided grin that raised his curling scar as he leaned toward the stone table, his honey-hued eyes watching her and making her squirm under his gaze. Andraste have mercy, she was absolutely terrible at this, couldn't feel more foolish. Marie put down her teacup and folded her hands tightly on the table, trying not to wring her fingers mercilessly as little arcs of light bounced between her buttons.

"Marie."Cullen reached across to place his hand hesitantly over hers, easily enveloping them and giving her white knuckles a gentle squeeze before locking her eyes with his. "Yours is time worth waiting for." 

Marie let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her face hot as she bit her lip. Maker preserve her, his words made her heart scramble through her stomach before settling again in her chest, painfully maintaining it's hard staccato rhythm. 

"Then I'll try not to make you wait too long." 

Cullen leaned over and kissed her then, tasting of the sweetest apples, his hand brushing stray hair from her face as the start of a beard tickled her lips, all thoughts of nightmares and foolishness scattering like leaves.


	23. Through the Emprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie tears through Emprise du Lion like a storm, scattering the Red Templar forces with hurricane force

Marie was part of the forward party, Dorian, Varric, and Bull, clearing the way for the main group of wagons and horses. Emprise du Lion was colder than Skyhold if Marie had to wager, the river frozen solid with scattered demons and sickly green rifts, red lyrium growing uncontrolled across the snowy landscape. It was an outlet for the storm that was teetering on the edge of control, Marie letting her walls slip enough to shatter through Red Templar barricades, leaving swaths of red snow for the rest to follow. Marie’s enchanters coat was covered in beaded, half dried blood, bits of flesh and splintered bone sticking to her hair, face, and clothes. 

“Look, titsicles!” Bull called out as he pointed to one of the ruined bridges with its naked Orlesian statuary, the four of them waiting for the Inquisition soldiers to catch up and set up a base camp at the tower they had just secured.

“We’ll have to take the quarry, and the keep there to completely secure the area.” Marie said, pointing to the path ahead of them with her copper cored staff even as she chuckled at Bull’s crass. “Do you think we can repair that bridge, get to the other side?”

“I’m sure Curly can make that happen for you Sparky.” Varric said, cleaning bits of caked blood and flesh that managed to get on Bianca. “You’d think I’d know better than to get so close to you when you’re smiling like Tiny. I’ve got Templar in places I didn’t know I had.”

“I love a woman that isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty.” Bull said, giving Marie a rather gentle pat on the back as static snapped against his thick Qunari skin. “Good work, Boss.”

Marie spotted the scouts coming along the bridge they had just crossed, knowing that the horses and wagons would be close behind them.

“We’ve still got plenty of work, and plenty of daylight to do it in.” Marie said as she waved her companions close, preparing to cast her barrier on them all. She held her staff parallel in front of her, Varric reaching out to grab the shaft.

“You are a grueling taskmaster, Sweetheart.” Dorian sighed dramatically, also grabbing her staff as Bull placed a hand on her shoulder; more daring for him, to touch her directly. He thought it was grand fun to shock himself, Marie was sure of it.

“Stop it Sparkler, we all know you love this.” Varric chuckled as she enveloped the group of them with her barrier. Then with careful precision, with her companions barriers still connected with hers, she concentrated on weaving the potent tendrils of electricity through her magic like weaving a large basket. 

“Remember, when the power discharges the barrier will start to degrade.” Marie said, arcs of light bouncing between her and her companions in small flashes and snaps as they broke contact. 

“Remarkable.” Dorian said with a grand smile as he brought his hands close together, watching as the light arced between his fingers. 

“Quarry or keep, Boss?” Bull asked as she turned to look at her possible targets, the storm inside swirling at the prospect of destroying more Templars, more of the men who sided with Corypheus.

“Where do you think more Templars will be?” Marie asked, the scouts marking the perimeter for camp. Her Advisors and Edward would be coming over that bridge shortly with the rest of her inner circle, and they didn’t need to see her like this, they didn’t need to know how Marie was incapable of giving any semblance of a clean death. Most important to her was that Cullen didn't see. 

“The keep.” Bull replied, giving her that ‘I just saw a dragon’ smile as he laughed. “You take me to the best places, Boss.” 

“Five sterling says we find something that farts fire.” Varric said to Dorian as Marie took the path towards the keep, readying her staff, the chant growing quiet in her mind.

“I’ll take that bet.” Dorian replied. “I win either way.”

The battle for the keep did not disappoint, peels of thunder echoing through the ruins of long forgotten gardens, the Red Templars entrenched deeper than she had anticipated. It gave her an outlet for her storm, her feral smile growing with each new target felled, the laughter that escaped from her when a behemoth sizzled and fell, charred holes from the multitude of lightning strikes it took to kill it. With each area they fought through, they found evidence of what they were doing here, experimenting with the lyrium, growing it in people, in the cold earth of the Emprise. Like the Redcliff in the future she and Dorian had seen, and like that future she lost more and more of her slippery grip on control, letting the storm swell and swallow all that stood before her.

Marie was still smiling when Imshael made his appearance at the apex of the keep, trying to swallow her unrestrained savagery as it tried to negotiate, offering what it declared it embodied; Choice.

Power, riches, virgins. Marie had laughed when he offered her, a virgin, a bevy of other virgins.

Marie needed none of it, desired none of those choices. In that moment, she desired nothing more than to splatter the blighted monstrosity across the courtyard and laugh while she did it.

“Die.” She snarled, stomping a foot into the snow, those virulent spikes of lightning fanning through the white, sending snow flying, spinning her copper cored staff to fire off sniping bolts of energy to force the demon back. Varric’s bolts followed without hesitation, Bull leaping into the fray with the fearlessness she had come to expect of the mercenary, Dorian covering them from the rear. 

An at the end of it, when the Inquisition’s flag was raised above the blood splattered keep, Marie knelt in the snow, taking fistfuls of cold slush in her hands and scrubbing the blood and demonic ichor from her hands with slow, deliberate movements.

“Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven. Field and forest shall burn, the seas shall rise and devour them, the wind shall tear their nations from the face of the earth…” Marie chanted softly, bolstering her inner fortress, carefully piecing the walls of her shattered Self back together. The storm had calmed now that she had unleashed it, her face ached and her teeth hurt, and her muscles began to twitch painfully as her body began to spiral down from the magical high. “Lightning shall rain down from the sky, they shall cry out to their false gods, and find silence.”

“You alright there Sparky?” Varric asked, the dwarf coming to stand next to her as she kneeled in the snow. He wasn’t nearly as coated in blood and gore as she was, only having set off the barrier she had wrapped around him once. The only one who had escaped most of the splatter had been Dorian.

“Yes, Varric. Thank you.” Marie replied, taking more clean snow and scrubbing her face, pressing the cold against her aching cheeks. “Please send word that the keep is secure, and the route through the Emprise is open. Let them know that I’ll be down at base camp once I finish here.”

“Tiny’s already on it, and Sparkler said something about documenting what we found.” Varric replied, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “You need more time?”

“Just a moment and I’ll be fine.” Marie said, forcing herself to her feet even as her muscles in her legs protested. She used her staff as leverage as Varric walked out with her the same way that they had come in, Marie trying not to focus on the carnage, the smells of ozone and half cooked flesh. The fog would lift soon enough, and she would relive with clarity the horrors that caused such devastation. 

They managed to get out of the keep without Marie losing the scant contents of her stomach, Inquisition soldiers and scouts filtering past them as they descended the path to their base camp. Too many eyes were on her as she leaned on her staff, conscious of how she knew she must look after slaughtering her way through the area. 

“Inquisitor!” One messenger came running up to her. “Sister Leliana, Lady Montilyet, and Commander Cullen are waiting for you at the Tower of Bone.”

“Thank you, that will be all.” She said, resigning herself to the inevitable. Josephine was going to have kittens, she was sure of that, and Cullen... she had at least gotten some of the blood off. “Varric, can you ask Dorian-”

“-to get your water ready? Yeah, I can do that Sparky.” Varric said as he walked off. “Gotta get all the bone bits out of Bianca anyway.”

Marie walked through the base camp, Inquisition tents being erected hurriedly as the sun was beginning to set, and easily found the makeshift table that her Advisors were around. Josephine was wrapped in a few warm layers of travelling clothes, a scarf wrapped around her head. Leliana had thrown on an extra cloak, and Cullen, well, he was typically Ferelden. He wore the same furry mantle as he did in Skyhold, his face flushed from the bitter cold and not breathing a word of complaint, leaning against the makeshift table, a map spread out in front of them. Edward was there as well, the silvered old bear draped in his black riding cloak, frost clinging to his beard as he stood as guard over her Advisors. 

Glorified guard duty. It was the only concession she allowed herself to make for her uncle, the man so insistent that he come, that he serve the Inquisition. She couldn't help but feel that he was trying to stay close to her.

“Inquisit- oh!” Josephine said as she first noticed Marie, then the state in which she approached them, her hands flying up to her face in shock. Marie leaned on her staff, gripping it with one hand while she gestured with the other, not trusting her twitching overworked muscles to keep her upright.

“The Red Templars no longer have a foothold in Sarnhia.” Marie said, approaching the map and getting her bearings on what was there. “Commander, I want to see if there is any way to have this bridge rebuilt here.” Marie pointed to the map with a blood crusted finger. “If construction can start before we leave, it might even be done by the time I return.”

“Yes, Inquisitor.” Cullen responded, thankfully not reacting, not judging her. Marie wasn't sure if she would be able to bare it if he looked at her like the monster she was.

“Leliana, there is a quarry not far from here that the Red Templars have been using to grow their lyrium. I want them cut off from any reinforcements until I can come back and clear them out.”

“Of course, your Worship.” Leliana replied, hardly batting an eye. 

“We can use our troops to bolster Leliana’s scouts, hold the line here to keep them from slithering out.” Cullen said, drawing a line on the map as his eyes briefly met hers.

“I agree. Have the captain left in charge also send word to Skyhold for a few Enchanters to bolster the defenses.” Marie sighed, holding her staff again with both hands. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

“There is a chevalier who has decided to join our cause, Michel de Chevin.” Josephine finally added, getting over having her kittens, trying not to look at the grisly mess that was her Inquisitor. “Formerly in service to Empress Celene, he may be of some use to our cause.”

“Send me a report, I’ll review it and properly introduce myself. Anything else that needs my immediate attention?”

“That is all for now, your Worship. You set a hard pace. We’ll make Halamshiral with time to spare.” Leliana said.

“Good.” She sighed. “I need to rest. We ride out again at dawn.” 

Marie gave a slight bow before leaning on her staff and walking stiffly away from the table, looking for the heraldry that labeled her tent. It thankfully wasn’t too far, Carver was wrapped in a heavy fur cloak with the hood pulled up over his head and sitting just outside of her tent, his staff standing straight up beside him as if he had drove it into the snow. Dorian ducked out just as she made it to Carver, fixing his cape to fend off the cold, the flashing smile marred only by the slight chatter of his teeth.

“As you’ve requested.” He said with a flourish. “I’m just a few tents away if you need me, Sweetheart.”

“Aren’t you staying with me?” Marie asked, confused that Dorian would break with their routine, but the Tevinter only winked at her.

“Sweetheart, sometimes you are terribly dense.” Dorian said, tugging playfully at his dashing moustache. “It is my duty as your best and most charming friend to inform you that most men don’t like it when the lady they are so _agonizingly_ slow to court is seen spending time alone with another devilishly handsome man.”

“But we’re not… _oh_.” Marie’s face grew hot as she realized what Dorian was saying, her heart stuttering at the thought that Cullen might misconstrue her relationship with Dorian as something more than friendship, that he might be more than her steadfast confidante. As far as she knew, Cullen didn’t know anything about the nightmares, that there were times that she couldn’t stand to be alone in the dark.

“Oh, indeed.” Dorian rolled his eyes theatrically, turning to Carver, who was trying not to laugh with a fist pressed against his lips. “Master Carver, you know where I’ll be.”

Marie couldn’t muster the glare to stare down Carver's chuckling, ducking into the warmth of her tent, glad to have the veil of solitude at last as she spied three large basins of steaming water, her heart still clamoring through her chest. There would be no large copper tubs on the road, she reminded herself, none of the luxuries allowed her at Skyhold. So Marie peeled her enchanters coat off, the chainmail sleeves hardly making a sound due to all the clotted blood and bits of flesh. Some of the blood had soaked through the gaps to her jacket and undershirt, which she also had to peel free from her skin. She felt her stomach churn as the fog slowly lifted from her memory, the battle through the keep, glossed over before by the savagery of the raging storm, flickering through her mind with the clarity of hindsight. She had laughed, had bared her teeth in feral smiles that had made her face ache, reveled in the spray of blood, the steam from charred corpses, felt hungry with the scents of cooking flesh. They deserved it, she told herself. By the Maker, those bastards deserved all of it. They weren't men anymore, they were monsters.

“Those who had sought to claim Heaven by violence destroyed it. What was golden and pure turned black.” She chanted as she washed the dark stains off of her skin, closed her eyes to how the water turned dark from rinsing her hair only to be greeted by the images of why she wore so much blood behind her lids. “Those who had once been mage-lords, the brightest of their age, were no longer men, but…” Marie found the last word sticking in her throat, seeing her reflection in the dark water distort and ripple as the bloody rivulets fell across her face, and snarled out that last damning word. “Monsters.”

Marie hurriedly finished cleaning herself, finding bone fragments in her hair, chanting frantically to shut the images out. Lines of liquified fat running down the silver of emblazoned armor, blood sizzling as it dripped onto the snow. Red hot steel searing the corrupted flesh of true abominations, the blackened oozing pits left by blinding strikes of undiluted lightning, the pop of skin bursting as sinew and fascia snapped and tore, a Templar shattering and oozing like an undercooked egg as Bull slammed into him with his hammer after...

Cullen, she thought as her stomach churned threateningly as she braced herself against the basin, think of Cullen.

The timber of his laugh, like a song overplayed and just as loved as the first day he had graced her with it. The prickle of his beard in the morning over breakfast, the heat of his lips tasting hers, the longing to run her fingers through his golden curls as she might dare catch his lip between her teeth. Her blood burned through her as she remembered the feel of his hand on her waist, drawing her against him with painful gentleness, the closest thing to intimate contact she had ever experienced in her life. The scent of him, of armor oil and leather, the muskiness of his fur cloak, the earthiness that was Cullen. The warmth that made her heart swell and surge, fluttery and faint and _hers_ , when he said her name... 

Marie clamped her legs together as she squirmed, pain shooting through her as all images of blood and battlefield were replaced by him as her heart pounded, light arcing between her fingers and over her skin. She quickly quaffed a draft of healing potion, sighing in relief as the elfroot slowly worked the twitching and spasms out of her muscles and stayed down, laying down on the narrow cot that had been set up next to a brazier of burning coals.

If she had to deal with her nightmares and demons all by herself from now on, than Maker preserve her, it was going to be a long night.


	24. Letting Him In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen pays Marie a visit in her tent, and Marie comes clean about Dorian.

There was absolutely no missing the trail the Inquisitor left for them to follow, the bloody swaths of sundered bodies littering the snow and the pulses of that steady and unyielding magic. He could see Sir Edward tense on his feather footed stallion, the former Knight-Commander's Templar instincts screaming to the fore as it had Cullen's with each demanding clap, but Cullen was certain that Edward didn't allow the magic to pass through him, to hum through his blood instead of resist it. Cracks of lightning flashed from up ahead, thunder rolling through the air, Marie's siren's call drawing him ever forward. 

"Sweet Andraste, she's gotten stronger." Edward huffed, gauntleted hands gripping the reigns tight. It was upon his insistence that he come, bringing his Templars with him as glorified bodyguards. Templar's that were dosed with higher concentrations of lyrium than he was accustomed to, making him sweat despite the raging cold as he licked his lips, practically tasting it in the air.

"The Inquisitor was on the front lines of the Mage-Templar conflict before joining the Inquisition, it's to be expected that she's improved since she was last under your charge." Cullen said with a scowl, his voice muffled inside of his lion helm. 

"It isn't her battle prowess I was referring to, Commander." Edward said, tapping his heels into the sides of his stallion, riding forward through the snow. 

As the thunder echoed further and further ahead of them, the line had to be spurred to catch up, the Inquisitor blowing through Emprise du Lion with hurricane force. Their base camp was established at the base of the Tower of Bone, the ancient elven keep lighting up with flashes and constant peels of thunder as the Inquisition soldiers pitched tents and reset broken barracades. A rough table had been dragged out of the wagon, a map of the region spread out as Sister Leliana and Scout Harding marked out the area's that the Inquisitor had already cleared behind them, almost securing the region in one day in her relentless forward march. Sir Edward had taken up position as if he was standing in a Circle, watchful and on guard, hand on the pommel of his sword as Cullen felt the old knight's eyes on him.

And when she had stiffly approached the table, her face a stark white mask framed in caked blood and ropes of loose clotted hair, leaning heavily upon her staff, he kept his focus on her tired hunter eyes and not the fact that she was covered in what remained of her enemies. Marie didn't show any surprise as Josephine had her moment of lady-like panic, Leliana masterfully composed as Cullen took the lead and focused on the task at hand, allowing Josephine the moment needed to recover as their Inquisitor gave her report and outlined her plan for the region. Their meeting was brief, Marie opting to read reports later about the acquisition of Michel de Chevin and introducing herself properly later. Josephine was no doubt pleased that the Inquisitor wasn't going to greet the chevalier looking like... _that._ The last time he had seen her like that, she was acting the bait while the Inquisition fled Haven.

A thought he quickly pushed to the back of his mind as she walked away, leaning heavily on her staff for support, obviously having pushed her body far too hard. He knew the signs of severe fatigue when he saw them, particularly common in soldiers who pushed themselves through by more than just physical endurance, but by sheer force of will, which Marie had in indomitable spades. Cullen had to fight the urge to follow after her right then, his lips tightening into a thin line of worry even as he turned to Sir Edward.

"Have Captain Rylen secure supplies to reconstruct that bridge, I'll have word sent to Skyhold to send soldiers to secure the area further." Cullen said to Edward, the silvered old bear nodding as he looked to Leliana.

"Yes, Commander." Sir Edward replied, turning on his heel, his black and gold riding cloak billowing around him as he left them.

"I'll send out the necessary missives, Commander." Leliana said as she looked closely at the map, her eyes on the area of Sarnhia mine, marked with a bloody fingerprint. "See to our troops, then I'm sure you wish to see to Lady Trevelyan." His brow furrowed into a scowl in a heartbeat, lips still set in a thin lined frown of disapproval.

"Maker's breath, don't you have something else to gossip about? I prefer that our private affairs remain just that; private." He said with a snarl, hardly amused and fiercely protective of his budding relationship with Marie, only to find that the Spymaster wasn't smiling.

"You started all the gossip by kissing her on the battlements thinking that no one could be looking." Leliana said smugly, Cullen fighting the blush that suddenly threatened to creep up his neck. "But I speak out of concern for the Herald, Commander."

"If it is, um, out of concern, well I'll, uh, be sure to check on her then." Cullen said, feeling a bit cowed by Leliana's words, rubbing his neck to cover the creeping blush of embarrassment. It was then that the hulking shadow of Iron Bull came into the tent, ducking his head down to get his horns inside, half as splattered in blood and gore as Marie had been.

"Got something for you, Red."

"Apology accepted, Commander." Leliana said, waving a hand as if to shoo him off.

With that he made a strategic retreat, knowing that there were many other things that he had to attend to before even entertaining the thought of visiting Marie at her tent. He went about the perimeter, hammering out guard rotations, seeing that Edward had his Templar's closer to the heart of the camp, closer to Marie. As the sun set below the horizon, blanketing the Emprise in the softened darkness of winter, he braced himself against the cold and checked to see that the soldiers had warm places to rest their heads, an adequate amount of tents erected, fires set at regular intervals. 

It also hadn't escaped his attention that Vivienne had sought out Sir Edward at his fire once he had finished with what Cullen had sent him to do, the two of them absorbed in conversation as her polite laughter rang through the cold night air.

Eventually he found the Inquisitor's heraldry, Enchanter Carver sitting at the entrance and wrapped in a heavy bear skin cloak with his staff standing on its own in the snow beside him. Cullen could see the gentle puffs of white from the man's breath, his cautious dark eyes finding him only to bring a shaky finger to his lips and giving a soft _shhhhh..._

Which seemed strange, since the camp wasn't particularly quiet, until he noticed the feel of the man's humming magic, radiating from the canvas of the Inquisitor's tent. If he had to hazard a guess, Carver was muffling the sounds of the camp to let his Lady Marie have some quiet, again making such an unusual application of his craft look effortless. Mages could wield the elements, manipulate the fiercest forces of nature, but few could actually do the simpler things that required fine magical manipulation like muffling sound, smoothing snow, or calling objects gently across a room. Or, judging by the staff standing unwaveringly on its own and not firmly planted in trampled snow, keeping objects static. The mages of Ostwick were undoubtedly a breed apart.

"Lady Marie likes her quiet." Carver said softly once Cullen moved closer to the man. "What can I do for you, Commander?" 

"I thought I might, uh, check in on Lady Trevelyan." Cullen said, the Senior Enchanter leaning forward on his perch, lacing his shaking fingers together as he set his elbows on his knees.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Carver asked, Cullen furrowing his brow at the mage.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to." Cullen replied curtly.

Carver watched him for a moment, coming to a decision before nodding and standing, straightening his bearskin cloak with his characteristically shaky hands. "Let me announce you then."

"That won't be necessary." Cullen said, moving past the enchanter and reaching for the tent flap. 

"If you insist, Commander." Carver replied, sitting back down with a groan. Cullen was mildly confused, not sure what to think of the Enchanter's unusual tone or how quickly he gave in. 

With a steadying breath he pushed and ducked his way inside, walking into a wall of heat as the weighted canvas fell closed behind him, the heavy copper tang of blood permeating the air. As he had guessed, it was significantly quieter inside, the small space lit by a lone brazier. Three large basins of dark water had yet to be taken out, Marie's blood caked enchanter's coat draped over a camp stool with the few pieces of armor that she wore with it; silverite chainmail sleeves and greaves, left with her knee high boots and waiting to be cleaned. There was an empty potion bottle tipped over and abandoned on the floor, and Cullen's eyes found themselves on the cot where a ball of blankets was curled up uncomfortably tight. 

Was she sleeping? He didn't want to wake her if she was, trying to move quietly inside as he approached the bundle on the cot quietly, his heart starting to pound. 

"My lady?" He asked, daring to call out to her as he approached the cot, seeing the blankets jump at the sound of his voice.

"Cullen? W-why are you...?" The ball of blankets slowly uncoiled, Marie's pale face peaking out from beneath the covers as she sat up. Cullen could see where her fists were clutching the fabric around herself, pulled over her head like a hood as she blinked her bloodshot eyes at him.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright." Cullen said, feeling suddenly nervous. Why was he so nervous? "I didn't mean to wake you, if I did. I mean, I can leave-"

"No!" Marie's hand shot out, grabbing hold of the hem of his cloak and gripping it with white knuckled intensity, her intense hunter eyes fearful. Every protective instinct in him roared to the fore seeing the fear in her eyes, Cullen beating back the urge to gather her against him as Marie closed her eyes tight and took a few controlling breaths. "No, please stay. I can't... I don't... _please don't leave me alone_."

Cullen looked down at where her hand gripped his cloak, her arm bare, a few of those silvery white and blue swirls visible along the inner part of her forearm from the crook of her elbow. His blood roared in his ears thinking about those little swirls of freckles, how he wanted to trace them with his tongue and taste of her alabaster skin, what other places he might find them, the heat of those thoughts settling in his breeches. Maker's breath, this is hardly the time to be thinking about that, he thought, scolding himself. Before Marie could notice his growing reaction to her innocently naked skin, he took her hand in his and shifted to sit down beside her.

"I'll stay as long as you want." Cullen said, ignoring the touch of huskiness in his voice as he prayed fervently for self control. _Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew._ Her fingers slowly loosened their grip, releasing the hem of his cloak. _Come to me child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity._ Sweet Andraste, why did his mind pick that one? 

"Thank you..." She said, sounding painfully relieved. "Dorian... he usually stays with me... until I, uh, fall asleep."

Dorian. That made his erection flag more effectively than any chant. 

"Yes. Dorian." Cullen said, noticing her wince and withdraw beneath her blankets.

"I apologize... I realize that I must be clear with you regarding Dorian. He and I... there is nothing improper between us. He's my friend." She said softly, shyly, her knees up to her chest, timidly leaning into his arm as he held her hand. "He has brought it to my attention that I shouldn't be seen spending time alone with another man while I am being... courted."

"I was under the impression that you and him, well, so you've never with..?"

"Oh sweet Maker, no!" She said, gingerly placing her head on his shoulder. "Well, he and I, um... we seem to have the same taste in men."

The mental images that found themselves in his thoughts derailed drastically, shifting and reforming; the giddy delight of her Tevinter, of Dorian _the lover_ , were replaced by images of Dorian _the friend_. The times that Dorian had followed her into the privacy of her cabin, making his stomach twist and seethe with an emotion that he hadn't dared identify as jealousy, were to keep her from feeling alone? To help her sleep? The excruciatingly late nights that Dorian had left her room, the painfully early mornings where rumors of the Altus' sprint to the Inquisitor's chamber in nothing but his nightclothes filtered through the barracks... Nightmares, he realized, looking at her still balled up tight in her blankets with her knees drawn to her chest, the white knuckled fear that had gripped at his cloak and tainted her intense hunter eyes. Cullen knew all about nightmares. They were especially dangerous for a mage, and even more so for Marie, who was believed by a few to be a mere step from possession due to her _Vis Naturae_. And if Dorian had-

"Wait... the same..?" Cullen stammered out suddenly as he registered the rest of what she had said.

"Yes, the same." She said sheepishly.

Cullen felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips, shifting his fingers to lace them with hers; Dorian never had her, could never claim that she was his to covet. "It's his loss, then." He said to her, relishing in the feel of her fingers between his, how her hand fit so easily with his. He wouldn't ask her about what terrified her so in her sleep, wouldn't pry where she wasn't ready to share. Cullen turned enough to look down at her, her face almost completely shrouded by the blanket, her lips moving as she no doubt recited some verse of the chant. 

"Does it put your mind at ease?" He asked, feeling her fingers grow lax, her weight shifting.

"Hmm?" She mumbled.

"When you recite the chant." Cullen replied. "You always seem to have some verse on your mind."

There was a silence, a moment where she tensed again as she drew her legs tight against her once more, a flicker of light from an arc of energy rippling down what he could see of her face.

"In the absence of light," Marie said quietly. "Shadows thrive."

There was something ominous in those words, soft and quiet as they were, weighted with something darker than a tiny verse of the chant of light should have.

Cullen sighed and freed his hand from hers, her head tilting up to look up at him as he draped his arm around her shoulders instead to pull him closer to him, kissing the top of her head as her body tensed. Here she didn't smell of rosewood and sage, the cloying copper tang of blood tainting the air, her hair, her skin under all those damnable layers blanket. He could feel the warmth of her body, doing what he could to suppress the images that his imagination happily supplied him with.

"How does Dorian help you sleep?" Cullen asked softly, brushing some of her loose chocolate hair from her hunter eyes with his other hand. He wouldn't think about what those nightmares could do to her, what they could turn her into. 

"He, uh... he would usually just stay with me so that I wasn't alone when I fell asleep." Marie replied, then a touch of pink climbed into her cheeks as she broke eye contact and looked away. "You must think me terribly childish, a grown woman needing to be coddled." Her tone was harsh, self-depricating. 

"As the man courting you," Cullen said, smiling as a tingling warmth spread through him at the words. Courtship, the active steps taken to woo his lady, to prove himself worthy of her; he unashamedly loved the thought. "I believe it is my pleasure to coddle you whenever the opportunity arises."

That touch of pink that had colored her cheeks turned red delightfully quick, her mouth opening to respond but nothing coming out. Speechless, he decided, he liked that he could strike her speechless, his shining rebel queen. He softly stroked her arm to calm her, placed chaste kisses on the top of her head, and patiently waited for her to relax into his arms. 

"Many are those who wander in sin, Despairing that they are lost forever, But the one who repents, who has faith Unshaken by the darkness of the world, And boasts not, nor gloats Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know The peace of the Maker's benediction." Cullen chanted for her, feeling her knees slowly break away from their place at her chest, the weight of her thigh against his making his heart stutter. "The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world, and into the next. For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, She should see fire and go towards Light. The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword." Cullen was hyper aware of every shift, every part of her that leaned into him as her eyes fluttered shut and her limbs grew heavy, the tight ball she had clenched herself into giving way to the form of a fatigued woman in desperate need of sleep.

Cullen continued to softly chant for her until he heard the first soft snore, loathe to bring himself to move her. As gentle as he could, he shifted his weight away from her and off of the cot, laying her down and tucking her securely into her blankets. Oh, how he wanted to curl up with her, wrap himself protectively around her so that he would know the moment she woke, to hear the first sighs of her waking, to be the cause of those first sighs as he caressed her thigh, her hip, up and over her belly to the expanse of her ribs. 

He pressed a kiss to her brow, standing and turning to leave, ducking out of the tent into the harsh cold of the Emprise. 

Enchanter Carver was still sitting in his spot, looking up at Cullen as he stepped out of Lady Marie's tent.

"I take it she's asleep?" Carver asked with a knowing grin.

"If she wakes... startled, I'd ask that you send for me." Cullen said, noticing the crease form between the older mages brows, the understanding; Carver knew. Cullen was about to open his mouth to reprimand the mage, sitting outside and leaving her alone with her fear, when he held up a shaky hand to stop him.

"Dorian insisted we give you the chance." Carver said, tucking his hand back into the warmth of his cloak. "He is only trying to do what he believes is best for Lady Marie."

The Tevinter Altus had been making headway on his behalf it seemed, more and more of his perceptions of the mage rearranging, taking on new perspective; like how he had found Marie an opponent to play against, luring her out with the promise of a challenge, allowing Cullen the pleasure of her undiluted attention. Time with _him_ had been Dorian's apology to Marie, not the promise of an opponent. Other times came to mind, when Dorian would step out of his way, warning him of her sensitive stomach when they had found her in the drift. When they had gone to close the breach, he was conspicuously absent at the temple.

Cullen took a calming breath, meeting the sharp eyes of the older mage.

"Master Carver I... have a request to ask of you." Cullen asked, looking around at the eyes on him, the soldiers and scouts, already with heads full of gossip as their Commander had paid a private visit to the Inquisitor.

"What more can I do for you, Commander?" Carver asked, leaning forward on his knees as he had done before, waiting patiently for Cullen to get the words out.

"I find that I'm, um... I would like to, uh... properly court Lady Marie." Cullen reached up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, finding it difficult to meet the dark eyes of the Enchanter. "I'm unfamiliar with the traditions of Ostwick, but I thought that, uh..."

Carver lifted a brow at him, his lips twisting into a smile. "I believe I may be able to help you with that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys! I had to take a bit of a mental break to piece what I wanted to write together. I'm back on track now, hope to have another chapter posted in a few more days!


	25. Wicked Eyes...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First part of the Winter Palace, where the Grand Duchess dances with Trevelyan's Butterfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's looking like these later chapters are averaging at about once a week, but I'm far from done. Thank you all for all of the positive comments, I do read them all as they come in, even if I don't respond to them all!

Marie felt dreadfully exposed.

She had to trust that Leliana and Josephine had fit the dress uniform correctly, that even though the belt cinched her waist uncomfortably tight, that the breeches hugged her hips and legs too snug, or that her chest felt constricted, that she still had her full range of motion. It hugged her body in a way where she wished that she had her enchanter's coat to at least hide in, feeling like anyone could stare at what she always stifled under layers. She was coiled and coifed, painted and polished until Josephine and Leliana were content with her appearance, the Spymaster drilling her yet again through the basics of the Game as Dorian masterfully wove her hair with her sandalwood comb and pins.

The carriage ride from the Dukes estate was long enough where Marie could gather her composure, the echo of the Canticle of Benedictions firmly in place at the back of her thoughts. There would me many, _many_ people in attendance, and she couldn't afford to have a single lick of her potent energy lash out in a moment of weakness, couldn't let a whisper of it escape for fear that word would spread that the Inquisitor was a hairs breadth from raging through the Winter Palace. Dorian, Bull, and Varric were in this carriage with her, Marie's Advisors and Edward in the one behind hers, the others of her inner Circle in the carriage taking up the rear.

"Here we are, at the Winter Palace of the Orlesian court, to stop the assassination of an empress. I admit, it makes me a bit homesick." Dorian quipped with a dramatic sigh, his hair slicked perfectly in unison with his dashing moustache. 

"It makes me sick to my stomach." Marie said absently, shifting again to try and adjust her jacket. 

"Being a noble, I thought you might like a little dancing and finery." Varric said. The dwarf had taken the liberty of leaving some of the buttons of his own dress uniform open, giving his impressive chest hair the room to breathe that Marie wished she had at that moment.

"The last time I danced at a ball was the day before my Circle was Annulled." Marie replied with a cold calm that silenced those in the carriage.

Marie sniffed, feeling the ghostly tickle of burning flesh creep into her nose, barricading those memories inside with her broken self and seething storm, slathering the cracks with the mortar of sheer will and resolve. She closed her eyes as she further recited Benedictions, _blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter..._

When a footman opened the door to the carriage, the horses halting gently at the end of the grand graveled drive, Marie put her alabaster mask in place, feigning a smile with years of dedicated practice. The old motions came back to her despite the years, reaching out with her hand and waiting for the footman to take it, helping her gracefully exit the carriage. She could almost hear the voice of her mother whispering in her ear; "Marie, stand up straight, shoulders back. Don't hold your chin too high Butterfly, or you'll only seem haughty. Be bold, but always modest."

There were the beady eyes peering from behind their masks, adorned in lace and silk and gold and jewels, the court trained creatures that lived and breathed the Great Game of Orlais. Foppish, overdressed peacocks, preening and maneuvering for status, for power. One of these creatures plotted treason against their Empress, one of the essential steps in Corypheus' plan to throw Thedas into chaos.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor Trevelyan." The smooth voice of Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons greeted her in those first gardens, his golden mask of the House of Chalons. "Imagine what the Inquisition could do with the support of the rightful heir of Orlais."

"I keep getting them confused, your grace... which one was that again?" Marie said with the deliberate softness of a lady, the slight nod of the head and the smile, always that damn smile.

"The handsome, charming one of course, my lady." The Duke said with a chuckle, starting forward, Marie moving to follow at a respectable pace. "My lady, are you ready to shock the court by walking into the grand ball with the hateful usurper? They will be telling stories of this into the next age."

"I can't imagine that they have seen anything better than you and I in their entire lives." Marie quipped, earning a laugh from the Duke, knowing that she had the man in the first snares of charm and wit.

"You're a woman after my own heart, my lady." Marie held out her hand, Gaspard taking it and pressing a soft kiss on her gloved knuckles before placing it on his forearm and starting into the Winter Palace. Marie resisted the urge to recoil and hiss, the Duke easily slipping into a conversation about Ambassador Briala and what she seemed to be doing, the promise of support should she help him. "Be as... discreet as possible. I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like the villains.

"We're keeping the court waiting, Inquisitor. Shall we?"

\-----------------------------------------

Cullen felt remarkably out of place, having stepped out of his carriage without being donned in his armor or weapon for that matter, his eyes quickly spotting the figure of the Inquisitor. The dress uniform, red with a blue sash with gold and humbling leather embellishments, was fit to the hourglass figure she kept so thoroughly hidden under layers of jackets and that enchanter's coat. Her dark chocolate hair was woven into a braided serpent, crowning her head to gently sway back and forth across her scalp and downward, curling delicately back into the natural wave at the bottom to settle just below her shoulder blades. He told himself to keep his eyes above her shoulders, on the intricate styling of her expertly coifed hair, and finding himself unable to keep to that, drifting down to her chest, the fluid line from the cinch of her narrow waist to the swell of her hips, down to her shapely thighs. Cullen had restrained himself immeasurably when he had teasingly placed his hands on the lovely curve of her hips those few scant times to draw her closer, but now his blood warmed at the thought of smoothing his hands over the deliciously smooth lines of Marie's lithe body. 

"Maker preserve me." He said under his breath, trying to think of cold winter snows and bitter arctic winds.

He had limited patience for nobility, hated their games and struggles for political power. At least their host was a chevalier, a man of action, and Cullen would wholeheartedly approve if Marie supported the Grand Duke for the benefit of the army of Chevaliers that he had at his disposal. Yet in that moment, when Marie smiled at the Grand Duke, offered her hand with the poise of a courtier, he wanted to dent in that hideous mask with his fist as the Duke pressed a kiss to her fingers. 

He had to look away, turning to Leliana as the Spymaster brightened, back in the thick of the Game after many years.

"Keep your eyes open, Commander." Leliana said, unable to hide the grin that lit her features.

Once inside, they followed the Duke and the Inquisitor through the throng of Orlesian nobility, Cullen keeping his soldier's posture as he scanned the masked faces, trying not to deliberately look at the delightfully feminine sway of Marie's hips as she walked ahead of him. Many of those eyes were also on Marie, the Herald of Andraste, the mage that sat firmly at the head of the fledgling Inquisition, commanding their attention with the weight of her presence. If there was any doubt of her nobility before, there was no doubt now; every movement, every nod of her head and flutter of her long dark lashes, every smile and well-placed ladylike laugh, gave testament to the careful tutelage of a woman groomed for the aristocracy. Sweet Andraste, when the herald announced her, her fluid strides brought her across the ballroom floor with the grace of a lifelong dancer, no trace of hesitation to be found as she bowed to Empress Celene.

Then it was time to find a spot to watch the ballroom, settling over the the doors to one of the many terraces leading from that ballroom, watching Marie when she fluttered into view, watching the nobles that swarmed and competed for her attention. To his great dismay, there were a few that had come to him, some of them showing an uncomfortable interest in his status. It was slowly adding to the growing headache that started behind his eyes, creeping back to his temples to radiate to the back of his skull.

"No thank you." He replied.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the most remarkable eyes, Commander?"

"Several times this evening in fact." He said.

"Are you married, Commander?"

"Not yet, but I am... already taken." He added, allowing the smile to escape at the admission.

"Save a dance for me, Commander?"

"No thank you." He said, a mere second before recognizing the voice, turning to Marie who had managed to approach him unnoticed. Her intense hunter eyes flickered briefly with disappointment as she looked to his gaggle of admirers, Cullen stifling his moment of panic and trying to find the right words to fix his blunder. "Maker's breath, I've been asked so many times that I'm rejecting it automatically. My Lady, I'm not one for dancing, Templars never attended balls."

"Oh..." Marie said, stepping in closer and through the hovering ladies to better hear him, creating a buffer between him and his unwanted slew of admirers. "You seem to have attracted a following. Who are these people?"

"I don't know, but they won't leave me alone." He said, exasperated.

"Not enjoying the attention?" Marie said, a teasing smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

"Hardly. Anyway, yours-" Cullen cleared his throat, realizing he sounded dreadfully irritated, an attitude bolstered by the stress and his ever growing headache, wanting to see her smile for him. "Yours is the only attention worth having."

Cullen was pleased to see the blush rise in her cheeks, the way she looked down and to the right as she gently bit her lip, her feet shuffling ever so slightly. When the Grand Duke had bent to touch his lips to her fingers, he hadn't gotten that demure response.

"Have you noticed anything that I should be aware of?" Marie asked, recovering from her reaction quicker than he liked, knowing that many eyes were on her and what she might do, what she might say. There was still the task at hand, and Marie would not be deterred until it was finished.

"No, nothing yet Inquisitor." He replied, Marie's intense hunter eyes sharpening as she spotted something out the window leading to the terrace and gave him a slight bow of her perfectly coifed head. 

"Please excuse me, Commander." She said politely, gliding in the direction of the terrace doors.

"I await your signal."

And just like that she was off again, drawing the attention of the nobles, leaving him alone with the annoyance of these women.

"You look like you are in need of some rescuing, Commander." Dorian was the one to saunter over, devilishly handsome in the same dress uniform, tugging idly at that ridiculous moustache as he grinned. He gave a sly wink to the man who had grabbed at Cullen's behind once or twice, sidling up beside him as he leaned against the wall. "The Inquisitor is otherwise occupied with wrapping a nation around her little finger, so I suppose I can offer my services as deterrent."

 _Friend_ , he reminded himself, eyeing the Tevinter cautiously. Helping, not hindering.

"Shouldn't you be helping the Inquisitor?" Cullen asked quietly, not wanting to draw anymore attention than they already were.

"The Inquisitor trusts me to know where and when I'm needed."

\------------------------------------------------------

The more she gleaned, the more she hated the great Game of Orlais. 

Gaspard, her _most gracious_ host, was planning to attack the Empress and take back his 'rightful' place as Emperor. Empress Celene, a master of the Game in her own right, had already caught on to his plotted treason, the poor informant tied naked to a bed and left behind locked doors while the Empress waited for him to strike. Briala, who had once been the lover of the Empress, had maneuvered her "ambassadors" throughout the Winter palace, trying to get inside of the guest quarters and failing, already knowing of Gaspard's plotted treason and was going to allow it to happen, sacrificing her own people to further her own goals to spite her former lover. Gaspard plotted expansionism, putting all of southern Thedas at risk of his ambition. Celene was a ruler for the people, but lacked the spine to protect them in earnest. Briala was the jilted lover turned ambassador, prepared to sacrifice too many for the sake of too few.

Then there was the Tevinter spy, slain by the Empress' occult advisor, Morrigan. No idle player, yet smart enough to stay out of the friendly fire, clever enough to keep the ear of a ruler. She had been willing enough to give Marie the information, and the key for more, and Marie continued the delicate balance of active participant, and rebel spy. She climbed walls, slipped past locked doors, tossed coins into the grand fountains of the Winter Palace, gossiped and eavesdropped, floated through the ever watchful eyes of the Game's players like the captive butterfly she once was. Secluded, slinking through the gardens of Halamshiral, Marie relied heavily on her hand-to-hand training to take down her foes without tapping into her virulent magic. 

Returning to the grand ballroom, bruised and aching from the few skirmishes she had participated in, she found herself at the mercy of the Grand Duchess, the powder pale woman gilded in butterfly wings and the golden mask of the House de Chalons. With all eyes on them, Duchess Florianne brought her to the dance floor, holding out her hand to Marie.

"Shall we dance, your grace?" Marie had asked, taking the leading position as she took the Grand Duchess' hand, her stomach turning and heart trembling at the thought of taking the first steps across that polished marble floor, the storm struggling hard behind the walls of her shattered Self. _Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven..._

With painful clarity Marie remembered the steps, had practiced them briefly with Dorian in the sub levels of Skyhold to be sure she would remember, had never forgotten. The Duchess continued to lay out her lies even as they bowed, touching hands briefly, Marie taking control and leading Florianne into the simple waltz, giving the vague and clever responses that were expected of her. Marie did her best to reign in her panic as Florianne idly mentioned her family in the Free Marches, the popularity of the Bann's dancing daughter.

"Rumor hardly does your talent justice, Inquisitor. You dance with the grace of a butterfly in flight." The Grand Duchess smiled as Marie brought her through a turn, her body battle ready with how hard her blood was pounding through her veins, how loudly the chant screamed in the back of her mind. Think, Marie, _think_...

"Indeed? And here I haven't even dusted off the cobwebs yet." Marie replied, hoping that Florianne couldn't hear the distress in her voice, that she was nothing short of confident. "I can hardly let it stand that my laziest outdoes my reputation, my lady. Allow me to set the record straight for the court." Florianne's posture shifted seamlessly with Marie as she led the Grand Duchess into a more complex version of the court dance, an Imperial Waltz, one she had been lauded for in years past, navigating Florianne's butterfly dress with ease as she pulled her through a turn, sweeping her across the ballroom with strength and grace. 

The creatures of the Great Game gave pause, their attentions captured by Trevelyan's Butterfly, drifting at first, then shuffling for better vantage as Marie commanded the marble floor, demanded their audience. Marie twirled the Duchess, catching her firmly by the waist as she dipped Florianne low with a flourish, bringing her gracefully back to her slippered feet with a twirl to the applause of the court as she continued. One more circuit around the ballroom, bodies gliding through the music, turning at Marie's command, the Duchess' head tilted back as she was carried away. 

Just as the music began to wind down, Marie guided the winded Grand Duchess through the last languid strides of the Imperial Waltz, easily ending at the edge of the dance floor, her hand perched on Marie's, giving Florianne her best dancers bow. "I hope I have not disappointed you, your grace."

"Truly a pleasure, Inquisitor." Florianne breathily replied, giving the status appropriate curtsy. "I hope this evening has been most forthcoming."

And then she stepped free of that thrice damned dance floor, trying not to spark along her buttons or between her fingers, approaching her Advisors. They had been drawn to the railings lining the ballroom floor as well, many people having vacated the ballroom floor to watch the Inquisitor dance with Duchess Florianne; like back home, she had thought, like Bann Trevelyan's caged butterfly, his prized pretty pet.

"We should bring you to balls more often, Inquisitor! Who knew you could dance like that?" Josephine said with her grandest Antivan smile.

"Too many for my liking, Ambassador." Marie responded, her eyes icy even as she smiled that damnably fake smile in return. "Let's step out of the ballroom, there is much to discuss."


	26. And Wicked Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Duchess is exposed, and Marie blackmails the leaders of an entire country.  
> Cullen and Marie have their dance, until Edward steps in and warns Cullen of the Bann's plans.

He saw the shift, like when her chanter's stride became her hunters gait, when Marie went from being a passive participant to taking command of the dance floor, her posture changing in a blink as the two women melded into the gliding steps of a new dance.

Dorian chuckled, the Tevinter's dark eyes flashing excitedly. "I knew it!"

Cullen had been transfixed by Marie and Duchess Florianne, swallowing hard at the thought that she had wanted to dance with _him_ and sincerely hoped that she hadn't expected that he would be anywhere close to her caliber. He had watched as the entirety of the Orlesian court had practically held its' collective breath to see the Inquisitor sweep the Grand Duchess across the polished marble floor, grace and strength, the power of her indomitable presence. The Duchess, who was perfectly poised and garishly dressed in butterfly wings when they had started, was visibly winded by the time Marie gracefully bowed at the edge of the dance floor.

"We should bring you to balls more often, Inquisitor!" Josephine bubbled as the three of them met her at the top of the stairs, beaming with pride as Marie paused. "Who knew you could dance like that?"

"Too many for my liking, Ambassador." Marie replied, smiling, but none of that reached her intense hunter eyes, icy and cold. "Let's step out of the ballroom, there is much to discuss."

Marie led the way out of the ballroom, Cullen following after Josephine and Leliana as the Inquisitor approached Cassandra, still standing stubbornly outside the grand double doors. Cullen noticed that, despite her impeccable grace, that Marie was walking with a slight limp, and was doing what she could to mask it.

"Your Worship, have you found out anything about the assassin?" Cassandra asked, the four of them gathering close to Marie as her sharp hunter eyes scanned those standing close and decided that it was safe to speak. Ever the cautious rebel his Marie.

"There is too much to share with you now, but there has been... many complications." Marie said carefully. "The Empress' occult advisor gave me access to the royal wing when she discovered a Tevinter spy in the court. Unfortunately she... disposed of him before learning of his intentions. There are too many parties fighting for leverage in the background to make any real headway, but I've got a lead."

"Have you made a decision as to who we will support?" Leliana asked. "Even indecision is a decision."

"We don't have to support the Empress, your Worship. Having the support of the Grand Duke will give us his army of Chevaliers." Cullen said, and didn't expect her scowl. He should have, to be perfectly honest.

"The Grand Duke has his chevaliers, yes, but he's a right bastard." Marie snarled, crossing her arms. "If I set that man on the throne, I'm setting in motion a chain of events that will have Orlais invading Ferelden in a few years time. I would be siding with the Empire in the long term and throwing another country under it's heel for the sake of a boost in our army." She took a breath, easing back from the anger that sat so close to the surface, the tension of the Game that she expertly hid beneath the noble calm of a practiced courtier. "We protect all of Thedas, Commander. Not just the parts that we have to politically maneuver into helping us."

"Whatever you decide, we will support your decision." Leliana responded. "Cullen is right though, you do not have to support the Empress."

Marie pursed her lips, her fine brows furrowing slightly as she sighed. "I understand, it's just... wait a moment." The icyness in her hunter eyes warmed for a moment as one brow raised in thought. "Yes, that could work... I have an idea."

"Care to enlighten us on what that idea might be?" Josephine asked, and Marie shook her head."

"No time, Ambassador. Keep your eyes open, I've got more work to do. Be prepared for my signal." Marie walked past them, striding with her chanter's grace towards one of the side galleries, many eyes watching her as she nodded and smiled, moving through practiced gestures as she disappeared into the crowds.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Marie hadn't expected the ambush, should have expected it, Florianne had been all too eager to feed her the information and had taunted her for her foolishness from the balcony. With the opening of a rift in the Winter Palace, Marie couldn't hold back, and had let the chant quiet and smiled. She had clapped her hands together to send the shudder of a thunderclap through the garden, followed by the stomp of her booted foot to send shivers of virulent energy through the cobblestones to spike up into her multitude of targets on the balconies. With arcs of light shivering over her body, the stench of cooked flesh wafting through the air, Marie raised her left hand toward the rift, green light streaming from the Anchor to the rift, disrupting the pulsing green gateway and sending the stunned demons back through.

And by saving the mercenary captain from the rift, Marie had the last piece of blackmail she needed to get the exact leverage that she wanted. How convenient, she thought.

But first, she needed to stop Florianne, Corypheus' assassin, from killing Empress Celene.

Racing through the abandoned back halls of Halamshiral, hissing through the pain that shot up her leg, stopping only long enough to catch her breath before the doors leading into the grand ballroom (Marie couldn't be winded, it wouldn't do for a player of the Great Game) and full of the grace and contempt she had for every grovelling, power grabbing creature in the Orlesian court.

She spotted Dorian quickly, standing watch by Cullen as she had asked, Marie making a beeline for their position, mouthing the lines to the chant to contain the pressure of the storm as it pushed harder against her inner walls. 

"Thank the Maker you're back, the Empress will make her speech soon. What have you learned?" Cullen asked, his fists clenched at his sides. He was so handsome in his dress uniform, broader than she had thought he would be-

No, she couldn't be thinking about that right now.

"Our assassin is the Grand Duchess. Move into position to take her into custody." Marie replied calmly, or at least she hoped she sounded calm. "Give me a moment to talk to her."

"We don't have time for that, the Empress will make her speech at any moment!" Cullen said hurriedly, but he gritted his teeth and let his brow furrow as he contained his argument. "At your command, Inquisitor." Cullen replied, motioning to Dorian as Marie continued forward through the ballroom.

As the heels of he boots clicked on the polished marble floor, garnering the attention of those nearby as she assumed her chanter's stride, Marie recited her chant as she embraced the pain that shot up her thigh. "Those who oppose thee Shall know the wrath of heaven. Field and forest shall burn, The seas shall rise and devour them, The wind shall tear their nations From the face of the earth, Lightning shall rain down from the sky..." With a wolfish, predatory grin, Marie ascended the stairs at the end of the ballroom, watching as the Empress, Gaspard, and Florianne turned to look upon her.

"I believe we owe the court one last show, your grace." Marie said loudly as she gathered the attention of the remaining members of the present court. Florianne was standing with Duke Gaspard at the top of the gallery stairs, her powdery butterfly gown swirled as she turned to give Marie her attention.

"Inquisitor." Florianne said cautiously, giving her the slightest of bows.

"The eyes of every noble in the empire are upon us, your grace. Please, remember to smile. This is your party after all, you wouldn't want them to think that you've lost control." Marie said as she ascended the steps, smiling with that icy fake smile, the one she had worn to all her father's gatherings.

"Who would not be delighted to speak with you, Inquisitor?" Florianne said innocently, making Marie's skin crawl.

"I seem to recall you saying that all I needed was to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike. When your archers failed to kill me in the garden," Marie left enough of a dramatic pause to allow the court their theatrical gasp. "I feared you wouldn't save me this last dance. It's so easy to lose your good graces, it seems... you even framed your brother for the murder of a council emissary." More stunned court chatter. "It was certainly an ambitious plan; Celene, Gaspard, the entire Council of Heralds, all your enemies under one roof."

"This is very entertaining, but you do not imagine anyone believes your wild stories?" Florianne said with her charming giggle, but Marie saw the bead of sweat that trickled down the side of her face beneath her silver mask, the physical proof that she had the Duchess cornered.

"That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin." Celene interjected, the Empress looking down on their altercation with disdain.

"Gaspard? You know that I wouldn't- I would never-!" Florianne turned to Gaspard, only to have him turn away form her and walk up the stairs to join the Empress. "Gaspard?" Marie revelled in the moment when the Duke turned from his sister, the Duchess falling to her knees and looking up at Celene with fear and rage.

"You lost this fight ages ago, your grace. You're just the last to learn of it." Marie said with a sneer, Inquisition soldiers siezing the Duchess and hauling her unceremoniously to her feet. Marie stepped close enough to Florianne to see the sweat pearling the layers of makeup she had powdered on to her face, to see the rage that simmered beneath the mask of Chalons, and said to her the last part of her chant; "You will cry out to your false god, Florianne... and find silence." With that the soldiers dragged the Duchess out of the ballroom as Marie smiled and waved. 

Turning on her heel, she then climbed the remainder of the stairs, where she would bring the three greatest powers in Orlais to their knees to do exactly what she wanted... without picking a damn side.

\--------------------------------------

He hadn't expected Marie to find a way to make the three of them work together. Quite frankly, he had expected a bloodbath, with one of them becoming a ghastly smear across the ballroom's polished floor.

"It seems that the Inquisitor has outplayed our most gracious hosts at their own Game." Josephine said after the leaders of the Empire made their combined speech, Marie only adding on at the end that they could only bring the war to an end if they worked together. None of them had seemed entirely pleased.

"I'm sure the Inquisitor will inform us of the how of the matter when we return to Skyhold." Leliana replied with an eager grin, watching the drunken revelry as the nobility somehow managed to drink themselves further from sobriety. "To think that she has dirt on all three of them enough to make them end their war..."

Cullen was hardly paying attention to his fellow Advisors admiring Marie's ability to cow the leaders of an entire nation in a single evening, or how easily she had won the approval of the empire's nobility like she had played the Great Game her entire life. He was watching her from across the ballroom as she bowed and expertly wove her way through the nobles to an exit out onto one of Halamshiral's many balconies, stopping only briefly to speak with the imposing figure of Ser Edward before closing the doors behind her. The former Knight-Commander, the silvered old bear wearing the armor and finery of a knight of the Free Marches of noble birth, gilded in the Swords of Mercy and the Trevelyan stallions, the gold-trimmed black satin half cloak draped over his sword arm with his hand most likely balanced on the pommel of his sword; cautious but mindful of the more delicate company of the Winter Palace.

And like a Templar sentinal, he stood at those doors and calmly, politely, turned those away who sought the Inquisitor's attention.

Good, Cullen thought, Marie did prize her solitude. 

"Now would be a good time to swoop in and woo your lady, Commander." The Tevinter's announcement startled him, as he had been too distracted by thoughts of her to realize that Dorian had followed him. The Tevinter had been convenient in keeping his gaggle of insipid admirers away from him, which had done some good in battling his headache, but honestly the mage hadn't said much to him.

"I- Well, now is hardly the time to..." He stammered as Dorian moved in to stand beside him, the mage giving Cullen his sassy grin as he played with his ridiculous moustache.

"Nonsense! Now is the perfect time. Or do you want one of these garish peacocks to saunter in to try and win her favor?" Dorian said, Cullen's brows knitting together in a scowl as a quiet and sudden jealousy simmered in his belly. "I'm sure Ser Edward would be delighted to allow a man like the _Grand Duke_ to pay court to his ravishingly lovely noble niece after-"

" _Enough_ Dorian." Cullen snapped, trying to remember that the man was trying to help even as Cullen balled his hands into fists.

"I see it's decided then." Dorian chimed happily. "I'll distract the bear, you slither on inside. Remember to be charming, Commander, I don't want my noble sacrifice to be for nothing."

With that, Dorian sauntered towards where Ser Edward was standing guard, one dark brow raising at the Tevinter as Dorian said something to the old Templar. Cullen, with his belly still burning as his heart started to hammer in his chest, moved to take advantage of Dorian's diversion. 

Maker's breath, he had no idea what he would do when he got in there, but Dorian was probably right. Marie was breathtaking, with her intense hunter stare that could lock a man in place, her long dark chocolate hair framing her alabaster face, armed with the deliciously sinful curves of an hourglass figure and the silvered tongue of a sharp and agile mind. Many a man would overlook her status as a Mage for the power and prestige of a woman like the Inquisitor, regardless of knowing what she was, and he wasn't of a mind to allow that.

He was aware enough when Ser Edward moved to follow Dorian, Cullen doing his best to slip through the doors nonchalantly and out into the cool night air. When he turned to see Marie, his eyes didn't fall upon the figure of the woman he sought, but locked with the feline yellow eyes of a woman he hadn't seen since the night the Hero of Ferelden saved him in Kinloch Hold.

"I will see you in Skyhold, Commander." Morrigan purred in her rich, dark timber, walking past him as she gave him a sultry smile. His Templar instincts prickled at the thought that Marie had been alone with the famous apostate, one of the few who had stood face to face with an Archdemon beside Ferelden's Warden queen and lived. 

He turned to where Marie was standing as Morrigan made her exit, her hands braced against the stone railing, most of her weight on her good leg, oddly quiet despite the events of the evening. He had half expected her to be softly chanting to herself, like she did whenever she was alone, and found it strangely unnerving that she was silent.

Cullen was alone with her, no eyes watching, judging, with no sign of Edward returning just yet. He couldn't waste the opportunity.

"There you are." He said, Marie turning her head just enough to look at him with her glorious hunter eyes. "Everyone's been looking for you."

"Let them look." She scoffed. 

"Things have calmed down for the moment... are you alright?" Cullen asked, and Marie further sank against the stone railing as she leaned against her elbows and put her forehead on her arms.

"I'm afraid this isn't over yet." Marie replied through her arms. "Corypheus will strike back at us for this loss."

"I'll put our troops on alert. When he strikes, we'll be ready. But I asked if you were alright, Marie." Cullen asked again, softening his tone as he leaned down against the railing beside her, close enough to smell the perfume he hadn't been able to notice before. Sweet summer jasmine, with feint undertones of what he could only guess was sweat from the night's activities. "What happened to your leg?"

Marie laughed, a sound like chantry bells.

"It seems I must manage to do the extraordinary even performing the most mundane tasks. I discovered that it is possible to fall _up_ stairs when I was in the guest wing. My knee was a casualty of that unfortunate discovery." She sighed, lifting her head from her arms to look out over the gardens with hooded eyes. "Thank you for asking, Cullen."

"I know it's foolish, but I was worried for you tonight." He said, placing a hand on her shoulder, Marie looking up quickly at the sudden contact as small sparks of energy webbed between her fingers. It was the first showing of her _Vis Naturae_ he had seen all evening, Marie probably stifling it as much as possible to keep the potent arcs from lashing out. 

Cullen suddenly had an idea. Stupidly foolish, but he didn't see an opportunity like this presenting itself ever again. "I may never get a chance like this, so I must ask..." Cullen said, stepping away from the railing as those intense hunter eyes followed him, Cullen offering out his hand to her as he bowed and smiled, Marie standing. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

"I would be delighted, but... I thought you didn't dance?" Marie asked, placing her hand in his. He pulled her close to him, placing a clumsy hand on her narrow waist as he felt her posture adjust to his. With no armor between them, he could feel the heat of her, the gentle press of her body and the rise and fall of her breath. He could see the luminescent trio of pale blue-white freckles that perched secretly on the bridge of her nose, her alabaster skin glowing in the moonlight as he looked into her eyes.

"For you, I'll try." He smiled, rewarded by her feint pink blush as they stepped slowly with the music that floated into the night from the ballroom. He couldn't tell who's heart it was that was pounding so mercilessly, if he was mistaken in thinking that he could feel the fluttery pulse of her fade-touched heart. She would smile and giggle whenever he would almost step on her foot, a problem solved after a few close calls when she paused to put the balls of her feet on his boots, drawing her even closer as they shuffled.

"At least I know you weren't lying to me when you said you didn't dance." Marie smiled, chuckling as she held on to his shoulder, Cullen reveling in the close proximity, the feel of her pressed against him.

"I'm grateful for your poor taste in dance partners." Cullen replied, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Your Worship." The voice was terse, sudden and unexpected, Marie's body going rigid as they both turned to look at the imposing figure of Ser Edward. An arc of light rippled over Marie, continuing beyond the limits of her own body and shivering over Cullen, ending with a distinct snap. "Enchanter Carver is ready to escort you back to the Grand Duke's estate, when you are ready"

"Thank you, Uncle." Marie replied as she stepped off of his feet, Cullen feeling an aching void where her body had been. Marie then stepped up onto the balls of her feet, leaning up to leave a chaste kiss on Cullen's cheek as she put unwanted space between them. "It was lovely dancing with you, Commander. We should do it again sometime."

"I would like that." Cullen replied, remembering that Ser Edward was watching, taking Marie's hand and placing a light kiss upon her fingers. He watched the slight blush, the way she turned her head away slightly as she shuffled her feet, the arcs of light between the buttons of her dress uniform.

"Inquisitor." Edward said as she backed away through the door, disappearing as Cullen looked to the elder Trevelyan, waiting for him to turn and leave so that Cullen could compose himself enough to go back out into the fray.

Except Ser Edward stepped through the door, shutting it behind him before turning to look at Cullen, one dark brow raised as those familiar hunter eyes looked down at him.

"I understand, Commander." Edward said with a sigh as he balanced a hand under his satin half cloak, effectively blocking the only exit. "Truly, I do. The heart wants what it wants, regardless of the circumstances of reality. I wish I could promise her the freedoms she so deserves, but you must understand the burdens of her position. You must understand that... you cannot have her." 

"Marie can be with whomever she chooses, Ser Edward." Cullen said with a sneer. "It is not for you to decide."

"I'm afraid it is for the Maker to decide." Edward replied, a frown showing through his impressive beard. "Her father, he... Bann Trevelyan has plans for his daughter. He wishes to move quickly, before the end of all this, before she..." His voice trailed off as if he were at a loss for words. It took Cullen a moment to realize what the elder Trevelyan meant, why the man was frowning, why there was pity in those hunter eyes and not the righteous anger of a man protecting the virtue of his noble niece, because...

"He doesn't believe she'll survive." Cullen said, speaking his final thought aloud. 

"No," Edward said quietly. "He doesn't."

It appalled him, the thought that Marie had so little support from her family, that her own father planned to marry her off for some alliance, for honor and pride and prestige, before she could die and lose that aspect of her usefulness. Her primary support was from a mage who had tutored her in Ostwick with a perpetual shake to his hands, of no relation but of unflinching loyalty. "I have faith in lady Marie" Carver had said, and he had proven it. It was true that many did not expect her to live, had not expected her to, but each time she has risen above and beyond, being at the right place at the right time, the right person to lead, a beacon for the floundering faithful. And Carver was always there, waiting for her, always knowing she would return.

" _I_ believe, Edward." Cullen replied at last, approaching Edward with a few short steps. "Because unlike Bann Trevelyan, I have faith in Marie. And so long as she'll have me, I'll stay by her side."

"Then I pray, for Marie's sake, that that will be enough to get her through this." Edward replied, stepping aside to let the Cullen pass. 

\--------------------------------------------------

Marie climbed into the carriage with Carver, his hands shaking in his lap as he sat across from her and the coachman outside spurred the horses down the grand graveled drive. Her heart was still thrumming, her blood singing through her as she remembered the feel of him pressed close to her, his hand on her waist, his clumsy steps as he tried to dance with her. That simple, rather graceless dance brought her more happiness than any elegant waltz she had ever danced, had coaxed a genuine smile out of her, had her skin tingling every place they touched.

"You haven't stopped grinning since we stepped out of the palace." Carver said with a sly smile, Marie feeling the burning blush climb up her neck.

"Tonight was a resounding success, should I not be grinning?" Marie started, but Carver was too clever, knew Marie too well.

"You only grin like that when you've been to see the Commander." Carver shot back, Marie hiding her face in her hands as she squirmed under his scrutiny.

"No, I- well, he's- Maker's breath, Carver!" Marie grabbed one of the frilly cushions inside of the carriage and tossed it at the man, Carver catching it against his chest as they continued away from the palace. He chuckled at her as she continued to shuffle uncomfortably, trying not to grin like a fool and only earning more laughter from the Enchanter.

"I am glad to see you happy, Lady Marie." Carver said after a long stretch of smiling silence, holding the pillow in his lap as he continued to watch her. "You deserve to be happy."

"Do I?" Marie asked, finding it hard to accept that she deserved anything. "I can't help but feel that I'll be paying for my sins for the rest of my life. Do you really believe I deserve happiness? Even after all I have done?" Carver leaned forward, reaching one of his shaky hands out to rest on her leg, and gave her a quivering smile.

"More than anyone I know." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me! ^w^


End file.
